Bluebell Flames
by Enn Arr
Summary: It was a chance encounter, a jacket, and a conversation about languages that had led them together. They couldn't be more than different — she with her history books and cold facts, and him with his love songs and strange beliefs — but if it wasn't fated, what else could they be? [Hermione Granger x Rhaegar Targaryen] GOTxHP. Modern AU. ON HIATUS.
1. Cold Night, Warm Hearts

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, the Song of Ice and Fire series, and the TV show Game of Thrones.**

**Chapter One**

_**Cold Night, Warm Hearts**_

Hermione rubbed her arms for some warmth and lifted her gaze to the darkened sky, watching as snowflakes fell down in tiny white crystals on the empty street. It was already six in the evening and she had been standing outside there for half an hour, enduring the harsh chilling wind beating against her exposed skin. The library, in compliance of their 8AM - 5 PM schedule, had long gone close behind her to seek refuge. As usual, like any other day where her day wasn't filled with classes, she spent her entire day tucked into the corner of the public library with a book under her nose. She was oblivious of the time that had gone past until the librarian had found and informed her that it was closing time. She hadn't even noticed that it had begun snowing until she passed through the doors.

She rubbed her hands, trying to garner heat from friction, before she tucked them under her armpits in a meager attempt to gather warmth. In her haste that morning to go to the library, she had forgotten to bring a coat with her and had only realized it was missing as soon as she was dropped off. Now she was suffering the consequences. In her defense, she didn't think that it would snow this early this time of the year especially since it was still the third week of September; it usually occurred on the first or second week of October.

Her fingers and toes were already numb and her breath came out in white puffs because of the cold. The lampposts in the street – including the one she was standing under – were her only source of light. She didn't know how much longer it would take for Harry Potter, her best friend since childhood, to arrive. He promised to pick her up soon enough because their other best friend, Ron Weasley, had a date with Lavender Brown of all people, and thus he reasoned that it was Harry's turn to act as a driver for Hermione. Since she refused to take a driver's test and get a license — something that the boys still liked to pester and tease her with — her best friends and taken it upon themselves to give car rides to Hermione whenever she chose to spend the day out of her rooms which was few and far between.

Their arrangements worked out well for them considering that they all lived in the same apartment complex called The Leaky Cauldron. Hermione was now living with Ron's younger sister, Ginny Weasley, in the two-bedroom apartment of room 19 while three boys opted to live together in the same two-bedroom apartment in room 21. Even though that Hermione was closer and more comfortable with her boys than with Ginny, she admitted to herself that she couldn't handle living with them for another year after she'd been subjected to their lifestyles for far too long. Ginny Weasley was an angel in disguise when she decided to study in Hogsmeade and she stayed with them.

She might love her boys but she didn't love them _that_ much.

She took her phone out of her pocket and ignored the way her hand trembled as she tried to type a message to Harry. The message failed to deliver though and she groaned when she saw that there wasn't any signal, most probably because of the weather. Her last message to Harry was twenty minutes ago and she was standing there for nearly forty-five minutes. Unfortunately for Hermione, she hadn't brought her wallet with her so she couldn't take a Knight Bus back to The Leaky Cauldron. She had planned to stay in the library all day so it seemed futile to bring money when she knew she didn't need any of it. However, right now, she really was cursing herself for her shortsightedness; and Harry. She was definitely cursing Harry at the moment.

She could not, for the life of her, understand why Harry had chosen to be late now — in this unfortunate time, no less! — when he was normally so punctual; and when she meant punctual, she meant earlier than Ron who was branded the laziest person alive and who had made her wait for an hour and thirty-eight minutes the last time he was supposed to be the one who picked her up. She certainly didn't want a repeat of the experience.

She heard a noise from her right; a door creaking open and loudly shutting close. She risked a glance to find a young man stepping out of the building next to the library, looking at his phone in obvious frustration if his pursed lips and furrowed eyebrows were any indication. She looked away and quickly shuffled to the left, toeing at the edge of the light, trying to be as little as possible to avoid unwanted attention. With her 5'4" height, it wasn't a hard feat. It didn't escape her notice that the man who came out of the bar – a bar(!) that next to the library of all places – was The Three Broomsticks.

She didn't know much about the bar. It only opened after five which was a blessing considering that its neighbor was the library. She had only gone once when Ginny asked her because the redhead wanted to watch a band play called The Weird Sisters. It turned out that the band was popular and when they arrived, it was already too late as the crowd almost swallowed the bar whole. The experience left nothing to be desired. The lights were in different bright colors that danced around the slightly dim room, making her head pound and ache, and the booming music from the band, and the deafening screams were pure nonsensical noise. As soon as they arrived, Ginny left her in favor of three cross dressing rock stars while she had gone to the bar counter and sat there the entire night, nursing a cherry coke that Ginny had recommended to her because she didn't like the taste of alcoholic beverages much.

She sat there the whole time with no one to talk to and nothing to do because the bartender was cheering for the band on stage and she didn't bring any books with her. Needless to say, it was quite an uneventful night and when it was all over, she vowed to never come back and subject herself to that torture again. That didn't stop Ginny from coming back though, especially when she found out that The Three Broomsticks featured different kinds of popular bands every month.

Ginny was quite upset when Hermione refused to join her the second time but she eventually conceded to the brunette's wishes. The two of them were very different and although they'd known each other for a long time, being childhood friends and all, they didn't enjoy the same things and didn't have the same interests in life. It was a miracle itself that she remained friends with Ginny for so long. Hermione didn't enjoy bar hopping, partying, drinking, or meeting new strangers and Ginny, as much as she loved her, didn't quite understand that. Ginny wasn't afraid to be adventurous, always living on the edge and unpredictability, while Hermione preferred to live in comfort and stability.

The young man who came out of the bar, who had his phone pressed to his ear, suddenly started speaking in a foreign language that she didn't understand but could easily recognize due to her taking Linguistics to satisfy her bookworm curiosity and urges. She was studying at one of the most prestigious schools in Hogwarts known as Hogwarts Academy. She was a Sophomore along with Ron and Harry, while Ginny was a Freshman. The Academy was based at Hogsmeade, the capital city of Hogwarts, and it was part of the reason why they were renting an apartment because the school was miles away from Godric's Hollow, their hometown. The Academy did have dorms but only to those who had full and partial scholarships and although Hermione was a scholar herself, she decided to stay with her friends than to stay in the dorms that were full of strangers.

If she wasn't mistaken, the language that he spoke was High Valyrian. It meant that the man was either a foreigner from Dragonstone or Valyria or had Valyrian ancestry in his family which could make him bilingual or multilingual. He spoke the beautiful language fluently, so who knew? She also noted his accent which she knew was from Westeros, a continent across Hogwarts that was separated by the large Black Lake sea. So, he was a foreigner then and was likely visiting the area. If not, then maybe he recently moved to Hogsmeade from Westeros and was maybe studying at Hogwarts. Although she had never seen him around the campus before.

She hummed to herself. Maybe he was a transferee? Or maybe an exchange student?

A strong gust of freezing wind blew and whipped her thick hair to her face, making her yelp in shock. Her vision was obscured by brown curls that she couldn't tame no matter how many hair care products Ginny insisted that she used. She huffed and lifted her trembling hands to push her hair back away from her face, her flushed cheeks heating some more in embarrassment. She was glad no one had seen that.

"Excuse me, Miss, but are you alright?"

Hermione's spine stiffened when she heard the accented voice and her lips curled. He couldn't be asking her now, could he? She slowly craned her neck and looked at the stranger who spoke and her breath hitched when their eyes connected. Now that she wasn't sneaking glances and was now fully looking at him, she could honestly say without any shame whatsoever that he was probably the most beautiful man that she had ever seen before. With the help from the yellow glow of the lamppost behind her, the light gave him an unearthly presence that ensnared anyone who was caught into his intricate webs. Hermione, unfortunately, was not immune.

He was waiting for her to speak but for the first time in Hermione's life, she was struck speechless; and it wasn't because of some pointless debate that she wanted to win, but it was because of someone's physique that she had once thought that she was above noticing. The man, however, proved her wrong. He was so attractive to the point of ridiculousness. His shoulder length hair was like the snow that had gathered under their feet, white and soft looking; his square jaw was chiseled and strong. He had an aristocratic nose that was above shapely pinkish lips that were thin at top but full at the bottom. His skin was ivory and was as smooth as porcelain and his almond shaped eyes had irises with a clear and soft lilac color that she was certain wasn't contact lenses.

She knew she was gaping at him but she hadn't found it within her to stop. She never blatantly ogled someone before but he was definitely the exception. She wouldn't call him 'hot' because it seemed lacking to describe someone with a face like his. He was wearing an unzipped black jacket, a simple red shirt with a black three headed dragon logo printed on the front, and black fitted jeans and shoes. His shirt was fit, the fabric pulled taut across his chest, and his legs and arms were toned and muscled. She almost choked in her saliva when she noted the subtle ripple of his muscles beneath the fabric of his clothes.

Draco Malfoy, with all of his slicked platinum blond hair, pointy face, and silver eyes glory, and whom she thought was insanely pretty with his almost feminine features, just couldn't compare to this phenomenon in front of her.

His eyebrows – thick, and shapely, and as white as his hair – drew close in concern when she failed to respond. "Miss?" He repeated again, stepping close towards her. "Are you alright?"

His abrupt movement snapped her out of her daze and she retreated a step back just to maintain the distance between them, her breaths coming out of her mouth in visible white smoke. Her might be as beautiful as a god walking amongst mortals but that didn't mean that he wasn't a stranger who had the potential to be a criminal; sometimes, it was the pretty ones you had to watch out for. She nearly shuddered at that thought. Although his sinful looks suggested otherwise, it didn't hurt to be cautious, especially since it was already dark out and it felt as though they were the only people in the world with them being the only ones out in the street.

"I'm f-fine," she tried to say convincingly but her teeth clattered as she spoke in trembling tones.

There was a hint of amusement mingling with worry in his lilac eyes. "I don't think that you are, miss. How long have you been standing here in this weather?" His gaze started to roam around her figure and she guessed that he was examining the thin fabric of her clothes — that was entirely inappropriate in a weather like this one — rather than checking her out.

She shivered involuntarily and she didn't know if it was because of the cold weather or because of the way his lilac eyes lingered on a particular part of her body before snapping his eyes up to her honey colored eyes. He seemed embarrassed when he saw that she was watching him.

She slightly narrowed her eyes. Maybe he was checking her out then.

"L-long enough," she huffed at him, pursing her lips. "I'm w-waiting for s-someone."

"In this time and weather?" He spoke with concern. "Miss, you're going to freeze here to death if you wait here any longer."

Although she understood that he was just concerned for her well-being — which was slightly odd considering that she was a stranger to him — she bristled at the implications of his statement. Did he think that she couldn't take care of herself? She wasn't some weak, pathetic girl just because she was outside in the cold, trembling so hard, wearing nothing that could ward off the heat. But, Merlin, she must've looked pathetic enough to garner concern from a complete stranger.

"I told you that I'm fine," she forced out and was internally proud of herself that she hadn't stammered this time. "Just leave me alone."

His lips tightened, obviously displeased by her words. "I'm afraid that I can't do so," he told her gently with an apologetic shrug of his shoulders as though he knew that his objection would earn him her ire. "I can't leave you in this weather and not when you're already shaking so badly. Please, let me help you."

Hermione pursed her lips as his eyes bored into her own. It was almost impossible to stop herself from getting swept by his pleading gaze. He seemed that he was genuine in his offer to help her — or at least she thought so — and it struck her that aside from being insanely good looking, he also seemed to be kind and a gentleman. She was right when she thought that Draco Malfoy couldn't compare to him. The blond prick that had tormented her since secondary school would've left her there to freeze to death. Malfoy didn't exactly have a winning personality.

She sighed. "Look, m-mister, while I appreciate y-your offer to help m-me, I can't a-accept it. Aside from t-the fact that you're a s-stranger and I'm clueless a-about your intentions towards me, I k-know that my friend is p-picking me up soon e-enough. So, really y-your help is n-not needed." She huffed and curled her numb fingers under her armpits.

"Well, you do have a point. You don't know me but I can guarantee that my intention is to help you; you need it." It seemed that he was undeterred by her attempts to refuse his offer. "Why don't you wait back inside The Three Broomsticks instead of standing out here for the Seven knows how long. It's warmer there than out here."

"No," she strongly objected with a sharp shake of her head. "No, t-thank you."

"I insist," he tried.

"No." She punctuated her response with a fierce glare.

He paused and stared at her. "You're quite stubborn, aren't you?" He eventually said, looking bemused.

Instead of looking down in embarrassment, she lifted her chin in an act of defiance. She looked as though she was ready to fight someone and tear them apart if they ever as much as made a mistake in her eyes. If she wasn't shaking so badly, she would've made a rather imposing figure.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I a-am."

He chuckled and brushed his hair back. Her mouth dried as his hair fell back into place and framed his face. She wondered if it was as soft as she imagined it would be. He contemplated her for a moment and then he suddenly slid his jacket off his shoulders and pulled his arms out of the long sleeves. Hermione slightly jumped when he offered his jacket to her with an easy smile on his lips.

"W-what are you d-doing?" Hermione asked, her gaze to the tempting thick jacket in his grasp.

He shrugged. "I would feel much better if there's something to keep you warm while you're waiting for your friend here. Since you didn't want to adhere to my suggestion," he said this with a sigh, "I'm going to lend you my jacket. Please take this."

Hermione stared at his jacket and her jaw clenched as she weighed down her odds. As if he sensed her hesitation, without any warning, he stepped closer to her and enveloped her with his jacket. She flinched as he dropped his jacket on her shoulders and she smelled the expensive cologne on his clothes. Her stomach fluttered as her mind flitted to the thought that he smelled good. She nearly gasped aloud when, instead of pulling away, he stepped started rubbing her shoulders to give her warmth. Her head rose higher and she wondered what she looked like as he looked at her. Realizing how close they were and probably seeing her confused and shocked expression, he dropped his hands as though he had been stung and immediately distanced himself from her.

"Sorry," he said with a sheepish grin on his handsome face. "I didn't mean to overstep my bounds."

Hermione cleared her throat and pulled the jacket tighter to her. She was certain that the blood rushing to her cheeks wasn't because of the cold anymore. "It's a-alright," she said slowly. "Thank you f-for the j-jacket."

His eyes softened as his lips tipped up into a half smile. "You're welcome."

"You didn't have t-to," she muttered, angling her body away from him.

"I have to," he contradicted her, chuckling lowly. "You were freezing. You have to at least protect yourself from the cold if you're planning on staying here." The corner of his eyes wrinkled in concern. "I have to go back to the bar soon. Are you sure that you'll be okay here alone when I leave?"

Hermione could hear the genuine concern in his tone of voice and some part of her softened. She nodded and flashed him a small smile the first time that night. "Yes, I'll be okay. You don't have to worry. Thank you again for the jacket."

His eyebrows twitched upwards and so did his lips; the grin on his face getting wider. "You're welcome again," he said graciously.

Hermione pursed her lips and although there was a part of her that wanted to say goodbye to him and wanted him gone already — which was terribly rude of her considering that he was kind enough to lend his jacket to her — a larger part of her wanted him to stay and hear him speak his accented voice. However, no matter how many times she pried her mouth open, no sound would escape past her throat. In the end, she snapped her mouth shut, feeling foolish.

She had never been good at talking to strangers before — to anyone really, if she cared enough to admit — and she found herself feeling intimidated by the gorgeous specimen before her. Usually, it was the _other _way around; people found her to be confrontational and intense so it made for rather awkward conversations. Whenever she wanted to get her opinion or point across, there was no stopping the words out of her mouth. However, encouraging pleasant small talk or any ounce of normal conversation that didn't end up in a debate was a hard thing for her to do. She didn't think that they would speak again tonight so she was prepared for him to walk away or to spend the remaining time with him in uncomfortable silence. However, he started to speak and she found herself relieved that her preparations had been for naught.

"So, are you a local, then?" He asked, evidently trying to fill the air between them with something other than silence. "Do you live in this area?"

"Oh, I d-don't really have a p-permanent residency h-here in Hogsmeade," she answered him. "I'm only s-studying here. Although I must c-confess that I was b-born here before we moved to a-another place when I was e-eleven-years-old. How a-about you? Are y-you visiting or moving here? You are f-from Westeros, aren't y-you?"

For a moment, he seemed shocked by her question, his lilac eyes widening for a small fraction and his mouth agape, but then the shock immediately passed and Hermione wondered if it was merely her imagination. There was no reason for him to be surprised by her question after all so she quickly dismissed it as nothing more than a trick of the light.

"Ah, I'm actually here for business." There was a mild spark in his eyes as he answered, lilac eyes boring intently into her own and Hermione tried not feel so concious under the weight of his stare. "My work actually requires me to travel around different places and this place is one of our few stops. You're right when you said that I'm from Westeros. I was actually born in Dragonstone before my family moved to King's Landing when I was just about two."

Hermione hummed thoughtfully. "That e-explains why you can s-speak High Valyrian then." His family likely taught him to speak that language before he spoke the common tongue in King's Landing. Those who had Valyrian ancestry, from what she had read, greatly honored their blood and culture and it was unlikely that his parents didn't teach him to speak their native language.

"You heard me speaking it earlier?" He asked, an amused note lingering in his voice.

Hermione blushed and was suddenly defensive. "I wasn't eavesdropping, if that's what you're thinking. You were speaking loudly and I couldn't help but overhear it."

"I have no doubt that you weren't eavesdropping," he said immediately to placate her. "Well, both my parents have Valyrian ancestry. My father mostly though since my mother was from Dorne before. High Valyrian is my mother tongue." Furrowing his eyebrows, he regarded her with a curious light in his eyes. "How did you know that it was High Valyrian, anyway?"

"I took a c-course about l-languages," she said. "I c-could tell that i-it was High Valyr-rian because of t-the way you spoke i-it. Many people c-can mistake Bastard V-Valyrian with High Valyrian. W-what most people d-don't catch is the a-accent and the word s-structure."

"You're right," he said with a childish delight that made Hermione look at him strangely. It was peculiar how easy it seemed to make him happy. "I'm actually quite surprised. Just like that, then? Taking a course about languages?" He appraised her. "Most people that I know can't tell whether it's Bastard Valyrian or High Valyrian, much more speak it. In fact, I rarely encounter someone outside of my family and who's a Dragonstone resident that can tell the difference."

She shrugged, slightly uncertain what to react about his obvious awe. She knew that she was clever and didn't bother hiding it which caused a lot of people taunting her that she was some big know-it-all. However, seeing some random stranger appreciating her intelligence when most people she knew would and had already scorned her for it, made her feel slightly out of depth. Only a number of people could appreciate intelligence and cleverness; nobody wanted to feel inferior after all, or that was what Ron had told her one time with his ears red in part humiliation and part envy.

She cleared her throat, as if the act itself would clear her off of her insecurity. "I was always f-fascinated about different l-languages when I w-was growing up," she told him then hesitated before continuing. "I can, err, I can actually s-speak Parseltongue before my e-eighth birthday."

His eyes warmed with wonder. "Truly? You're a Parselmouth? Wow. Isn't that one of the hardest languages in the world? Who taught you?"

This time, she could not help but grin widely up at him, her heart warming at the clear admiration in his voice. There was no hint of jealousy; just fascination. It wasn't the same as Ron, who merely dismissed it as nothing and who only berated her whenever she spoke in a different language that he didn't understand. It wasn't the same as Malfoy who commented snidely that she was nothing more than an overeager show off. It wasn't the same as Mrs. Molly Weasley, Ron's and Ginny's mother, who almost always looked sour and discouraged her gently. It was strange how this stranger had made her feel lighter than the other people who knew her longer than him.

"I t-taught myself," she revealed proudly.

His lilac eyes seemed to almost swallow her whole. "Wow," he breathed out, chuckling softly. "That's amazing. Can I get an example then and a translation please, if you don't mind?"

She blushed and she was now thankful that it was cold because she could use it as an excuse. She cleared her throat and spoke, "_H-hasshaashhiih... hessashi haaashuahh._ The first p-part means that 'it is cold o-out,' and the s-second part means, 'I s-should've brought a jacket with me.'" Her cheeks heated even further. "And that's a-about it."

His large smile took off half of his face and he was about to open his mouth to respond when a strong chilling breeze had both of them violently shivering, completely ruining the warm mood between the two of them. Hermione watched as he rubbed his bare arms, all the while giving her an easy smile as though he was unbothered by the cold. Guilt churned in her stomach at seeing him completely vulnerable to the harsh weather and she opened her mouth with the intent to return his jacket to him when someone from behind him called out and they both turned to find a man standing in the doorway to the bar, his hand on the door. Hermione could not distinguish much of his features, aside from the fact that he was a large and heavily muscled man.

"Hey, Rhae!" The man said in his loud, booming voice, his narrowed sea blue eyes fixed at the man that Hermione was with. "Let's go! It's show time! They're already waiting for you! Come on!"

The man with her, who was called Rhae apparently, winced and nodded at him. "I'll be there. Just wait for a second." He turned to her with an apologetic glint in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I got to go. It was—" He paused then let out a breath and gave her a small smile. "It was an absolute pleasure talking to you. Please, keep the jacket. You need it more than I do. It'll help you keep warm."

Instead of protesting at his offer of keeping his jacket — as though it was a token that served as a reminder of this specific night — she merely nodded at him, admittedly a bit disappointed to see him go. He hesitated for a moment before he pivoted on his heel and headed towards the door to The Three Broomsticks. The man who called him was nowhere to be found; he was likely inside the bar waiting for his friend. She stared at him as the distance between them grew, her heart pounding as steady as his steps that were silent against the snow covered concrete pavement. She turned to face the empty street, wrapping the jacket tighter around herself and watching as the snowflakes continued to fall from the heavens. The jacket was still slightly warm inside although the cold was already threatening to seep through the fabric.

_It would not be long before his warmth would vanish_, she mused, feeling down all of the sudden.

"Excuse me, Miss."

Startled, Hermione whipped her head to the side, to the direction where she heard the voice. She found him standing exactly on the same spot he left before with a sheepish smile that did wonders to his facial features. She had never been a vain person before but this time she allowed herself to appreciate his insane beauty even for just a moment because it would be a shame not to. It was likely that they would never see each other again so she had to make the most of it.

Her breath hitched again as a nervous flutter wrecked havoc inside of her stomach. "Err," she pursed her lips, "yes?"

He ran his fingers through his hair, looking quite sheepish about something. "I just realized that I've been talking to you for quite sometime now but I never once caught your name," he uttered quietly, unable to meet her eye. Then he heaved out a deep breath, smoke curling over his mouth, and he peered into her honey colored orbs. "I was hoping to rectify that?"

"O-oh," Hermione drawled out, realizing the same thing as him. It had never occurred to her that they had not been properly introduced before and had just immediately jumped into a conversation. It made her laugh. "Oh, uhm, my n-name is Hermione."

"Hermione," he repeated slowly, as though he was tasting her name on his tongue, before he stretched his hand out to her, the curl of his smile giving light to his eyes. "A pleasure to meet you. I'm Rhaegar."

She couldn't help but smile at him as she clasped his hand. She didn't let herself think about how warm his hand was, how big and slightly rough it felt when it nearly engulf her small hand, or how she felt at loss when she had finally let it go. It was best not to dwell onto those things. It didn't matter that he was hopelessly gorgeous and a perfect gentleman. In the end, this encounter would not be more than a fond memory to remember from time to time as soon as the night would end. There would be what-ifs and what-could-have-beens, but it was a memory all the same. Someday, it would fade and it would be forgotten until something would trigger the memory back again.

"I hope to see you again soon. It has been a wonderful time. Take care, Hermione." There was sincerity in his voice as he spoke and his eyes were soft.

"You t-too, Rhaegar."

_It's such a shame really,_ she thought as she waited for Harry's car and he headed towards the direction of the bar. It was such a shame that she would never meet him again.

When Harry finally arrived after many more minutes — in Ron's ancient and beat up car no less; an old Animagus model called Wormtail that was passed to him by his twin brothers — and she situated herself on the passenger seat, she folded the black jacket on her lap, listening as Harry mumbled apologies to her. She didn't respond, mostly because she was too busy warming her hands on the heater while also trying to stop her teeth from clattering inside her mouth. She was very glad that she had worn her jeans rather than the ridiculously short skirt that Ginny insisted for her to wear. She had not realized how cold it really was until she was now experiencing heat. She was surprised that she hadn't gotten hypothermia.

"My car was at the shop and I have to borrow Ron's since they were taking Lavender's car today," he explained as he restarted the engine for the third time, grunting. "I couldn't get the speed past forty because the car would break down. I'm really sorry for being late. Have you been waiting long?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. Harry didn't need to know about the time she spent outside in the snow just waiting for him or about the gorgeous man with the strange name who lent her his jacket. He was very protective of her and she didn't want him to feel guilty. "It's okay, Harry. Let's just go back home."

He gave her a relieved smile that maybe had something to do with the fact that she hadn't berated him about punctuality. "Okay, let's go."

The car sprung to life with a pitiful wheezing noise that was another testament of how old Ron's car was. Hermione glanced at the rear view mirror, at the reflection of the doors that led inside The Three Broomsticks, until it was too far away. She could've sworn though, as the car swerved to the right, that the door opened again and she caught a glimpse of white hair.

**A/N: This is what I get for reading GOT fanfics and binge watching Season 1 to 4. I need something good in my life right now. Just as I was beginning to think that I had lost my muse, she hits me with this AU story and I don't even know what to make of**** it. Might as well post it and burn to hell for it.**

**Reviews are welcomed!**

**~ NR xx**


	2. The Dragon Legacy

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, the Song of Ice and Fire series, and the TV show Game of Thrones.**

**Source about the information below: harrypotter . fandom wiki / Gellert _ Grindelwald (just erase the spaces.)**

**Just giving credits to the site to avoid getting sued or something like that! Although I did change United States and Europe to Hogwarts and Westeros. I also changed the format of the last paragraph. Additional Information: The name of Hermione's parents are purely headcanon and Potterwatch is the equivalent of YouTube. Quidditch is still a sport although it's different now without the magic.**

**Anyway, enjoy reading! Don't forget to leave a review right after! Thank you! ~ NR xx**

**Chapter Two**

**_The Dragon Legacy_**

_**'Gellert Grindelwald was a complex figure, highly idealistic and talented, with a dedication to achieve his ends at any cost. A revolutionary operating outside the law, he and his followers committed numerous crimes, including several murders—'**_

_'Ohh, ohh, I know it's wrong to feel this way—'_

_**'With violent acts in both Hogwarts and Westeros, Grindelwald ultimately established a power base at Nurmengard Castle in Dumstrang—'**_

_'But, baby, I'm afraid I can't stay away—'_

_**'He was subsequently imprisoned in his own fortress for decades after getting defeated by General Albus Dumbledore in 1945 in a legendary duel—'**_

"—ERMIONE! _HERMIONE_!"

Hermione whipped her head up from the book she was reading — _An Autobiography of a Revolutionary Leader: Gellert Grindelwald_ — startled as the door to her room slammed against the wall just as a tall beautiful redheaded young woman bounded towards her, her waist length hair swaying gently behind her back and her hazel eyes flickering with irritation. Dread pooled in Hermione's stomach when she saw the cellphone that the redhead was carrying and saw the caller flashing on the screen. Panic flared inside of her chest and she leaned back against her chair as though the action would increase the distance between them. Much to her dismay, it didn't work as the redhead continued nearing her.

Hermione tore her earphones off her ears, music still blaring faintly, and furiously hissed at her, "No! Tell her I'm not here!"

The redhead stopped short and looked helplessly at the phone before pressing it against her chest in an attempt to muffle her voice to the caller. "I already told her that you're here," she informed her, eyes wide.

Hermione pursed her lips to prevent herself from cursing aloud. "Tell her that I'm busy studying! Tell her it's for my midterm exams!"

"But it won't be for another—"

"Just do it, Ginny," she cut her off in an abrupt manner that had the redhead snapping her mouth shut.

Ginny's eyes narrowed dangerously before she pressed the phone to her ear and said in a sweet buttery voice that never failed to trick her six brothers, "Sorry, Dr. Granger, Hermione is busy at the moment. She doesn't want to be disturbed. You know how she is when exams are coming closer. Hmm. Ah, yes, Dr. Granger, I'll be sure to pass that message to her as well. Ah, you too, Dr. Granger. Goodnight."

Hermione breathed out a relieved sigh, slumping heavily in her swivel chair, as Ginny finally ended the call. The brunette wanted nothing more than to go back to studying and bury herself in written facts — because believe it or not, she really did have a pre-test tomorrow and she wanted to be prepared. Never mind that she had already read the book three or four times since two days ago — but Ginny seemed determined to stay as she regarded her with shrewd eyes. The brunette eyed the redhead warily, bracing herself for the confrontation that was about to come as she noted that Ginny's body seemed tense.

"Your mother said that you should call her once your exams," she rolled her eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm, "are over."

Hermione nodded her head in resignation. "Okay, Ginny," she said quietly. "Thank you."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Ginny suddenly demanded, crossing her arms over her chest, her perfectly plucked eyebrows furrowed. "Your own mother just called and you didn't even have the decency to talk to her. You know what she told me? She said that your phone was turned off and she couldn't reach you, and that you also haven't contacted her for two weeks now. That's why she called me. What is going on with you, Hermione? This is your own mother."

She winced and brushed her frizzy hair aside. "You don't understand, Ginny. It's complicated," she muttered, silently cursing herself for using such an overuse and cliché answer.

Ginny scoffed. "Try me," she dared, hazel eyes narrowed.

Hermione pursed her lips. Her relationship with her mother — or lack there of — wasn't the kind of topic that was spoken aloud in good company. Growing up, she wasn't particularly as close to her mother as she was to her father. Jean Granger was a severe and strict woman; she was a perfectionist and just like everything in her life was perfect, she expected the same results from her young daughter. It was to her great disappointment that Hermione wasn't as pretty as she first imagined she would be. Hermione didn't inherit her straight cornflake blonde hair and piercing ice blue eyes. Instead Hermione inherited Herman Granger's caramel locks and honey brown eyes. It seemed that the only thing that Jean was proud of was her intelligence as Hermione proved to be above average compared to her peers.

Back when she was a child, Hermione remembered striving hard in school just to make her mother proud of her. Whenever she perfected a test or gotten perfect marks in a homework, Jean would give her all the motherly affection that she craved. It was part of the reason why she was so obsessed when it came to her studies and why failure wasn't made an option. Harry, Ron, and the rest of her friends didn't understand and would roll their eyes at her when she worried frantically about her test scores or if she had answered something wrong — which she rarely did, thank God. They didn't understand that if she failed, if she was less than perfect or less than intelligent, she would lose the small affection that her mother would give to her.

Of course, by the time that she was thirteen years old, she recognized that she would never earn her mother's love and affection. Although it had pained her greatly to realize it and had lessened her frantic need to be right about everything, it didn't stop her from still becoming the best in school. After all, being clever was the only thing she knew what to do and she was good at it.

She loved her friends, truly, but Hermione knew that her one true friend was her father. All those painful years, her father was the only source of light in her life. Unlike Jean, Herman loved her and constantly doted upon her despite the disapproving frowns on Jean's face whenever she thought that he was spoiling her too much. Hermione might have a mother who expected perfection from her but her father was the one who taught her compassion, love, and kindness. Herman was her first supporter, the one who always encouraged her to stand up straight and tall, to always face challenges and obstacles no matter how hard it was, and to never run away in spite of fear.

Her father was her first best friend and it still pained her to think that she would never hear his laugh again and would never spot the dimple on his cheeks when he smiled. He would never sneak a chocolate bar under her pillow, write songs and poems to read to her late at night, and they would never exchange insights about a new book that they had just read. Three years ago, when Hermione just recently turned sixteen years old, her father contracted a fatal disease called Dragon Pox. It was similar to cancer and, unfortunately, a cure wasn't found yet. Her father was two out of five people who had the disease. He had only lasted three months before he finally passed away. Even now, even after all these years, there was a large gaping hole gnawing in her chest where her father's presence used to fill.

Her father was the glue that had kept the family together and when he died, Hermione hadn't found any purpose to speak or to interact with her own mother and the same thing went to her. The few conversations they had were strained and stilted, almost painful actually. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't find a middle ground to stand on and in the end, they simply gave up and stopped. Jean grew more focused on their dental practice while Hermione buried her grief in her studies and extracurricular activities. There were times when her mother wouldn't come home for a few weeks because of her growing career and there were days when Hermione stayed at the Weasley's home because her mother brought countless of men into their own house and did God knew what.

"It's... you just can't understand," Hermione told her gently, shaking her head.

She wasn't being patronizing; it was simply the truth. Ginny wouldn't understand because she came from a family who loved each other and who would stand together as one unit against whatever problem they faced. Ginny had a loving and sweet mother, Molly Weasley, and an eccentric but kind father, Arthur Weasley. She had six older brothers who, while she complained about them most of the time, would do anything for her if she asked. Hermione always envied Ginny's easy camaraderie with her family. They might be poor in money, unlike Hermione, but they were rich in love.

Someone like Ginny, who had never experienced what it was like to be shunned by her own family, wouldn't understand the pain that she had gone through because of the woman who called her minutes ago and whom Ginny claimed was trying to reach out to her. Hermione loved her but she wasn't exactly the kind of person that she could relate to when it came to her family problems.

"It can't be that bad," Ginny argued, sitting down on her bed and crossing her long legs. "Come on. I know that you two have issues with each other but don't tell me that you're oblivious of her mother's ways to connect with you."

Hermione couldn't stop a bitter smile from spreading her lips. "She really isn't doing that, Ginny."

The redhead frowned. "Why do you say that? She called you, didn't she? I mean, that's got to be something. She's trying but you're not."

Hermione sighed and tapped her pen on the table. "My phone wasn't off, Ginny," she suddenly told her.

She paused, momentarily confused by the abrupt change of their conversation. "Huh? What?"

Hermione flickered her eyes at the redhead. "You told me that she couldn't reach me because my phone is off." She tapped the screen of her phone placed right next to another book, _The Lies and Tales of Albus Dumbledore_. "My phone is on and I didn't get any calls from her this day, not once."

"Don't be silly." Ginny grabbed her phone from the table and turned the device on. "Oh," she breathed out when she saw the full battery bar. She turned to her, her eyes widening in realization. "So, that means that she lied then when she told me that she tried to contact you."

"Yes, I think that's what it means," Hermione nodded, unbothered; she was already used to her own mother's lies. "I told you that you can't understand and please don't try to. My mother and I have a complicated relationship."

Ginny looked at her with pity etched across her pretty face. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Hermione. I didn't know."

Hermione pursed her lips and shifted in her seat, feeling uncomfortable at seeing the pity in the redhead's eyes. She shook her head and gave her a soft smile. "It's okay, Ginny."

She sighed. "No. It's... I feel stupid now. I just..." She seemed as though she was struggling for a moment before she settled for a weak statement of, "She's your mother, Hermione."

"She is," agreed Hermione. "But she's also a stranger to me, Ginny. As much as our relationship confuses you, I really don't want to talk about it. Trust me. It's better this way. I have no doubts that she only called me just to make sure that I'm alive, nothing more and nothing less. It would be painful for us if we tried to talk to each other, not because we're hurting but because we don't know _how_ to talk to each other."

Ginny looked disturbed by this then she shook her eyes. "Anyway, enough of that." She cleared her throat and flipped her silky red hair over her shoulder. "I've been meaning to ask you something. I noticed a black jacket hanging outside the balcony and I didn't recognize it. I was wondering if it's yours."

Hermione welcomed the change of topic – any topic was better than talking about her relationship with her mother and trying to explain to someone who likely wouldn't understand – but then she paused, unable to stop the blush spreading on her cheeks as she recalled the owner of the jacket. She turned away when she noticed Ginny's narrowed eyes on her, suspicion mingling in her hazel irises as she spotted the twin blushes on the brunette's cheeks.

Hermione fidgeted. A suspicious Ginny was never a good thing. She became too nosy and headstrong for her liking, always trying to pry into other people's business — especially her friends, unfortunately — whenever her curiosity was awake. It was a trait that she had gotten from her mother, Molly. Hermione knew she meant well but Ginny got overbearing at times, especially when she wouldn't accept no as an answer.

"It's not mine, exactly," Hermione drawled, twirling her pen as she tried to look nonchalant.

"Then is it Harry's?" Ginny rolled her eyes. "I know that Ron isn't the owner 'cause he can't afford that jacket. It looks expensive."

Hermione squirmed, pursing her lips. "Not Harry's, either."

Intrigued sparked in her hazel eyes. "Oh, this must be good," she uttered, amused. "So, it's yours then?"

Hermione averted her gaze and pursed her lips. "You can say that," she mumbled reluctantly.

"Hermione, stop acting coy with me, now. The jacket is, like, three times larger than your size. If it's not yours," she grinned, giving her a leering look, "it's definitely someone else's. A man, perhaps?"

Immediately, she thought of him: his blond hair and his lilac eyes, and how he looked like a god that night. Her cheeks heated even more as she remembered their closeness when he was rubbing her shoulders and the feel of his hand when he grasped hers. Now that she had thought about it – and she did, for two days since they met – she realized that she was actually lucky to have met him that night. Other people would've taken advantage of her vulnerable state. It certainly didn't hurt that he had wonderful eyes and a smile that could melt the hardest of hearts. He was charming, kind, and a complete gentleman. Thinking of him made her feel dizzy as Ginny broke into a loud and slightly manic giggle. If Hermione wasn't too busy fighting down a blush, she would've found the sound disconcerting.

"No way! I can't believe this!" The redhead squealed. "This is too good to be true! I was right, wasn't I? Oh, my! Spill the beans, sister!"

"There are no beans to spill!" Hermione sputtered, feeling uneasy at her ecstatic tone.

"Oh, you're such a liar, Hermione," Ginny said, sticking her tongue out at her. "Come on. Tell me. Who's the lucky guy who managed to bag _the_ Hermione Granger?"

"No one bagged anyone," Hermione snapped. "Just drop it, Ginny. It's highly unlikely that we'll see each other again anyway."

"Oh, so there is a man." Ginny's grin was positively wicked. "Now, you really got to tell me."

Hermione clamped her mouth shut. She never intended for anyone to know about Rhaegar. It was her secret for once. Of course, she wasn't the type to keep secrets from her friends; she was usually so transparent when it came to them. But she felt differently for Rhaegar. She had never met someone who had affected her so much to the point that she had to reread the same book three to four times in the span of two days because he kept on invading her mind no matter which direction it took. That had never happened before. The one who came closest before Rhaegar was — she pursed her lips, cringing inwardly — Ronald Weasley, her best friend who was probably making out with his long legged blonde girlfriend at the moment.

Her moment with Rhaegar was an innocent memory that Ginny would taint for the sake of romanticizing it because Hermione was a woman and Rhaegar was a man and therefore, a romance must ensue in Ginny's defense. Although she couldn't stop thinking about him since she'd met him two days ago and he was probably the first man who ever made her speechless, she didn't want to put meaning into his actions. He was just being kind, that was all.

"Come on, Hermione," Ginny groused, pouting at her in the same way she would pout at her family to get what she wanted that they refused to give and they always gave in in the end. "You got to tell me! I mean, it's been a long time since we've talked about relationships. I want some news!"

"That's because there's nothing to talk about," Hermione retorted.

Ginny harrumphed. "Only to you, but it's obvious that you're hiding something from me. Come on. You're usually so open about this. I mean, you talked to me about my own brother for Merlin's sake and that was a conversation that I never want to visit."

Hermione cringed, thinking about her slight infatuation towards Ron a few years ago. Her feelings for him at that time weren't anything serious, thankfully because it was gone as quickly as it came. She suspected that it merely occurred because of hormones and close proximity. Harry was more like her brother, so developing romantic feelings for him was out of the question. Ron, on the other hand, was one of her best friends and they had always have an explosive friendship where they would often rile each other up. Only Ginny knew about her silly crush because she had noticed the way she looked at her brother. Thank Merlin the infatuation was now over. It would be a disaster if Ron had found out and it would be a complete war if his own girlfriend, the ever perfect and beautiful Lavender Brown, knew about it.

"Really, Ginny, it's really not a big deal," she insisted weakly, feeling herself getting swayed by Ginny's persistence. "It was just one night."

"Then why are you hiding it, then?" Ginny countered, crossing her arms and huffing like a child. "If you don't tell me, I'm going to tell Harry that you're hiding something and you know what he would feel about that."

Hermione winced. She really didn't want to go there. If there was something that her best friend hated more than their Chemistry teacher back when they were studying at Godric's Hollow, it was probably keeping secrets from each other. Harry hated not knowing about anything concerning them. If Ginny told him that she was hiding something, Harry would undoubtedly start to pester her until she would finally crack and give in. He would know the truth about that night and, aside from feeling guilty for making her wait for a long time, he would start acting protective over her.

Because nice intentions or not, Rhaegar was still a stranger and Harry would act as her younger brother, ready to defend her in case that he was some kind of threat to her. Harry was very overprotective and paranoid, especially to those he considered his family. There were times when Hermione was convinced that Harry still saw her as the eleven years old bucktoothed and bushy haired girl that he saved from her bullies.

"Okay, fine," Hermione finally conceded.

_So much for keeping it a secret, _she thought to herself, resigned.

"Yes! Finally!" Ginny shrieked, pumping her fists up in the air. She looked like a child who had just opened her presents a day before Christmas.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Okay, so..." She cleared her throat. "What do you want to know?"

"What's his name? What's he like?" Ginny started eagerly. "Where did you two meet? And, more importantly, is he cute?"

Hermione chuckled. "Of course his looks are important," she uttered sarcastically.

"Duh." Ginny smiled with mischief. "So? Tell me everything!"

Hermione sighed and pursed her lips. "We met two days ago," she began reluctantly. "I was waiting for Harry outside in the snow in front of the library when he came out of The Three Broomsticks. He offered me his jacket, we had a short conversation about languages, and then he went back to The Three Broomsticks."

Ginny drew back, frowning in disappointment. "That's it? Did you get a good look at his face at least?"

"Ginny, he was the most..." Hermione trailed off as her mind drifted off towards him.

"Oh, my!" Ginny's squeal startled her out of her thoughts. "He was _that_ good looking, then?"

Hermione chuckled wearily. "Very, Ginny. Malfoy doesn't even compare to him."

Ginny scrunched her nose in disgust. "Uh, ew? Why are you comparing him to Malfoy?"

"They have the same white hair," Hermione explained. "But Rhaegar has less pointy features and he has—"

"Wait, wait, wait. Hold up," Ginny suddenly interjected, raising one finger up. "His name is Rhaegar? Rhaegar with blond hair? Are you sure?"

Hermione shrugged, puzzled by the dumbfounded expression on the redhead's face. "That's what he told me, so yes I'm sure."

Ginny's face lit up. "Do you mean to say that you met Rhaegar Targaryen, offered you his jacket, and then had a conversation with him?!" Suddenly, Ginny grabbed her shoulders and started shaking her roughly. "Rhaegar Targaryen, Hermione!" She shrieked at her face. "You met Rhaegar Targaryen, you lucky bitch! This is huge, so huge!"

"Wait, wait." Hermione pulled herself forcibly from her grasp before her head could snap off her neck. Ginny was incredibly strong, especially since she's an athlete, and she wasn't handling her delicately. "What are you talking about? Who's Rhaegar Targaryen?"

"Are you serious right now?" When Hermione nodded slowly, Ginny let out a huge laugh. "Oh Merlin, this is huge!" She suddenly shot up from the mattress and plopped down on Hermione's lap, ignoring the brunette's startled yelp. She opened the laptop on the table and typed in the name '_Rhaegar Targaryen'_ in the search engine, the Hogwarts Library. She smiled smugly and turned to Hermione as she pointed her finger at the large picture displaying on the screen. "Is this the guy that you met that night?"

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, glaring heatedly at the redhead in her lap before her attention went towards the picture. Just like before, her breath hitched and her eyes widened as she saw the familiar white blond hair and lilac eyes. It was definitely him that there was no mistaking it; he had the same hair, the same eyes, and the same smile. He was grinning at the camera — which made her feel as though he was grinning at _her_ — and Hermione took a moment to admire his pearly white teeth. Being a daughter of two successful dentists, she always liked guys who had good teeth, and Rhaegar's didn't only have good teeth; his teeth were perfect.

"That's him, isn't it?" Ginny questioned eagerly in her lap.

"Yes," Hermione breathed out before shaking her head out of her stupor and looking at Ginny, confused. "But how did you..."

"Hermione, everyone knows Rhaegar Targaryen and The Dragon Legacy," Ginny told her with a roll of her eyes. "I can't believe that you don't. Oh, wait, I can believe it since their music aren't the ones that you would interest you."

Hermione's eyebrows rose at her statement. "Music? What's The Dragon Legacy, exactly?"

Ginny snorted. "Hermione, The Dragon Legacy is a band."

She paused and then blurted out, "What?"

Ginny slipped off of her lap and stood in front of her. "The Dragon Legacy is a band from Westeros which consists of three members. Your man right here, Rhaegar, happens to be the lead singer and lead guitarist."

"He's not my man," Hermione denied hotly.

"Whatever," Ginny effectively dismissed her. "Anyway, they're incredibly popular and have a large fan base even though they have only just begun their tour a few months ago. Maybe that's why you saw them at The Three Broomsticks. They're probably staying here at Hogsmeade. Last I heard from their latest update, they have a concert at the Hog's Head stadium next week."

Hermione was still processing what Ginny had said as she stared at the picture of the gorgeous man on her screen, her chest deflating and her shoulders dropping. Hermione could not stop herself from feeling disappointed, even though there was absolutely no reason for her to feel that way. Aside from living in different continents, she and Rhaegar were from two very different worlds. But, then again, if he was as popular as what Ginny had told her, maybe he had forgotten about her already. For him, she was just another nameless girl that he gave his jacket to. There was nothing special about her; compared to the countless of girls who wanted to throw themselves at his feet — and whom she was certain were prettier than her — she was just a nobody.

Her eyebrows knitted. That realization had hurt more than it should and she immediately berated herself for being ridiculous.

"Wow, Hermione." The admiration in Ginny's voice was unmistakable. "I really don't know how you do it. First, you managed to capture the attention of an international Quidditch player and now you met the new face of the music industry! The funniest thing is that you weren't even trying hard at all! Do you even know how lucky you are? I'm actually quite jealous of you right now and I'm not even into guys!"

"Hmm," Hermione hummed, not wanting to respond, as she shut her laptop close. She didn't think that she could look at his face any longer.

"Hermione? Hermione!"

"Hmm?" The brunette abruptly turned to her, face innocent as a tight smile graced her features at seeing the concern in Ginny's hazel gaze. "Yes? What is it?"

Ginny frowned. "Are you okay? You seemed distracted there for a while."

"Ah, yes." She nodded and forced a laugh. "I was actually thinking about my homework in _Hogwarts, A History_. I think I have gotten a few information wrong about Rowena Ravenclaw. I still have to find prove that she and the Bloody Baron had an affair while the Bloody Baron was married to the Grey Lady who was Rowena's daughter."

Just as expected whenever she talked about her schoolwork, Ginny groaned. "Ugh. Stop it with the history talk already." She then grinned impishly. "You know what? I think you should hear some music first. Preferably, The Dragon Legacy's _She-Wolf_. It's a masterpiece. It's actually one of their greatest hits."

"I'll do that," Hermione said, just to get her to leave.

"Great!" She clapped her hands, winking at her. "I'm going to leave you now for you to listen to your new boyfriend's song. Enjoy!"

Finally, Ginny left her room with a skip in her steps and Hermione sat there in her room, idly tapping her pen on her desk. She pursed her lips, debated it for a minute or two, before she opened her laptop and typed '_Potterwatch_' in the search engine. The website opened and Hermione paused as she was about to type _'She-Wolf by The Dragon Legacy.'_ Her stomach fluttered as she finally did and saw the results. Unknowingly to her, her fingers were trembling as she chose a live concert video that was filmed in Storm's End just a few months ago. They must've just started the tour then if the time and the place were any indication.

The quality of the video wasn't the best and was probably shot by a camera phone. Fortunately, the camera was close to the stage and she could make out three people on the stage with Rhaegar at the center, carrying a guitar. Next to him was another young man with white blond hair although it was cut shorter and was curlier than Rhaegar's. He was tuning his bass guitar. Behind the two of them was a girl with long curly blonde hair who was playing with the drumstick in her hands. Hermione concluded that they were related and were probably siblings, if not then cousins. There were noises in the background, the fans screaming three different names: Viserys, Daenerys, and Rhaegar. The camera moved a lot as though it was being jostled constantly and when the opening music started, the screaming was absolutely deafening.

Hermione winced and was tempted to exit the video when the song finally started. Her finger hovered above the left side of the mouse as she momentarily forgot to breathe. The voice was Rhaegar's and she was struck at how beautiful it sounded. He clearly didn't hold back and frankly, it would be a shame if he did. He had a soulful voice and she could hear the heartbreak in it as he sang about a girl with ice in her veins and a piercing stare that had put an arrow to his chest. _She-wolf,_ he had sang, she was someone he couldn't tame and couldn't cage. It was too late when she realized that it was a love song, a rather sad one, and the she-wolf that he was singing to them about was probably someone he was in love with in real life.

She gulped down the lump in her throat as the video finally ended with him waving at his fans. She stared at his face, at his eyes, and couldn't help but think that even though he was smiling widely, his eyes looked forlorn. As soon as that thought crossed her mind, she shook her head and closed her laptop. It didn't matter if he was sad about the girl in his song — who was with someone else if she had gotten the meaning of his lyrics right — it was still none of her business.

_Another faceless girl in the crowd, _she thought as she forced herself to read about Albus Dumbledore.

She had reread the same paragraph for an hour before she finally gave up and went to bed, Rhaegar's song still resonating in her mind like a broken record. And if she had played the song one more time that night because she couldn't sleep, no one would know aside from herself.


	3. To Live Spontaneously

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, the Song of Ice and Fire series, and the TV show Game of Thrones.**

**Chapter Three**

**_To Live Spontaneously_**

Hermione yawned as she slowly trekked towards the Salazar Slytherin building, where her next class, _Hogwarts, A History_, was supposed to be held. She rubbed her watering eyes and felt the strain in her muscles as she raised to stretch her arms. She thought of the delicious smell of coffee — black with two sugars, please — and she pursed her lips when she remembered that they only sold caffeinated coffees in the Rowena Ravenclaw building which was at the end of the school. She would be late for her class if she decided to buy one now. She sighed, resigned to spend the day without caffeine to energize her.

She thought of Ginny's coffee that morning and she regretted not taking it. But then she remembered the redhead's shameless smile and could practically hear the questions running in her mind from a mile away, and decided against accepting Ginny's coffee no matter how good it smelled like. She wasn't ready to talk about the blond and lilac eyed stranger-turned-into-rockstar that she met yet. Not when she had spent most of her night listening to his band's songs on repeat. It was the reason why she was feeling her whole body on the verge of shutting down because of the lack of sleep. It didn't help that her first class for the day was seven in the morning.

Hermione rarely listened to anything that was close to rock music and although she had been reluctant at first, she found herself liking The Dragon Legacy's songs far more than she expected, oddly enough. Their debut album was entitled '_Dynasty_' and the the first song introduced was _Fire and Blood_. Next was the _Mad King_ and the _Prince Who Was Promised_. Their songs weren't all rock, though, with the exception of _She-Wolf_, which was a ballad more than anything. Her favorite so far was the one entitled _I'm The Last Dragon_ and it was the song she played on repeat late last night and had fallen asleep listening to.

_'Ohh, oh, oh. A fire burning inside of me—'_

"Granger." Someone smoothly stepped in beside her, matching her sloth-like pace with graceful ease.

She nearly stumbled when she saw who it was. "Riddle," she said in greeting, her breath hitching.

Tom Riddle Jr. gave her a smile that didn't reach his eyes. It never did but it didn't make his face any less handsome. Before Hermione had met Rhaegar Targaryen, she had once thought that Tom Riddle was probably the most beautiful man that had ever existed in the entire world. He had dark hair that blended with the night, not one strand out of place, and his eyes were an unsettling color of blood red that was black from afar. His shoulders were broad, his hands were strong with slender fingers, he had a trim waist, and long and powerful legs. His gaze was intense and his words were polite at best but his voice always spoke passionately about the topics he believed in. He knew that he was handsome too and knew how well it affected people when he smiled and said the right words at them. Aside from being unfairly handsome though, Riddle was also quite brilliant. Everyone who was studying at Hogwarts knew about Tom Riddle and how he was going to change the world.

He was a Political Science student and a Sophomore the first time they met when she decided to visit the Academy that she wanted to study in, thinking of taking a major in History. The day they met, their conversation ended up with a heated debate about the improper use of the name 'house elves' in pertaining to the people who made a living by slaving themselves to the upperclassmen. Somehow, the debate ended when she had tossed ice tea on his lap and his expensive uniform, and he had successfully thrown icing at her face using his bare hands. He told her that she was an 'insolent know-it-all bitch who needed a firm hand to slap some sense into her' and she retaliated by telling him that he was a 'sociopathic racist moron who couldn't put two and two together.' The next time they spoke, when she was officially a student and a year his junior, it was terse and electric, and it was always like that ever since.

Tom Riddle was about pretenses and masks. The world was his stage and everyone was his audience. Everything was an act to him and somehow, out of all of his masks, she managed to bring out the worst in him. She didn't know whether to be glad or be afraid. There was something decidedly different about Riddle that made her wary. Everything he had ever done, he did so with a purpose and she didn't know for the life of her why he was approaching her now. Without her knowing why, she recognized something dangerous in Riddle. Some instinctual part of her was warning her to stay alert; it almost felt like being stuck in a cage with a viper that was pretending to be asleep, drawing you into a false conclusion that you were safe when the truth was, you were not.

"I was wondering if you have any free time as of the moment. I want to talk."

She stopped short and faced him. His eyes were more red than black up close. It was unnerving to be honest. "Are you joking right now?"

"Do I look like I am to you?" He deadpanned.

She snorted and started walking. "I have class," she said curtly.

"You still have ten minutes of free time before your class starts," he said, easily falling into step beside her. "I also know in good authority that Professor Slughorn is three to five minutes late in every class that he has."

Hermione pursed her lips. She didn't want to talk to him but she knew that how persistent he could be. He would probably wait outside her class until she was done just to talk to her. She also didn't want to think about how he knew that her first class of the day was with Professor Slughorn. The thought that Tom Riddle knew her schedule was downright terrifying.

"You have until I reach Professor Slughorn's classroom." She made sure to walk faster.

"Excellent," he nearly purred. "I want to talk about the paper that you wrote about The Chamber of Secrets for the _Hogwarts Four Founders _class. It was an enlightening read."

Her eyebrows rose and she chanced a cautious glance at Riddle. That was unexpected. And she meant about him reading her paper, not the compliment he gave. "Thanks, Riddle," she said reluctantly, taking a sharp turn to the left.

"Your theory about why Slytherin hid the chamber was very informative," he continued. "It's obvious that you had done some extensive research about your evidences. They were nearly ten pages alone."

She sighed. "And the point is?"

"I was getting there," he replied easily. "I had some concerns about your conclusions, specifically about the locations of the chamber. Why do you think that it was in the second floor girl's lavatories of the Slytherin building?"

"If you read my paper, then you would know the answer to that." She pursed her lips and made her steps longer than what her short legs were capable of.

"Ah, yes, but I want to hear it personally from yourself how you came into that conclusion." He still managed to match her pace. It was probably because his legs were longer than hers.

Another frustrated sigh escaped her lips. "I didn't think about the location until after I came across the Myrtle Warren Case from two years ago."

"Ah, the Myrtle Warren Case. She was the student who had been found dead in the girl's lavatories. It was ruled out as a suicide though," said Riddle, smiling benignly at one student who waved at him.

"That's because the Aurors didn't know how she died," she pointed out. "They only ruled it out as a suicide case when they found out she was in the lavatories because someone had bullied her, according to some witnesses. They thought she was depressed and wanted to make a statement to her tormentors by dying."

"So, you based your conclusions on a dead girl?" She could hear the mock in his voice.

She pursed her lips and clenched her fists. She was almost there. She could already see Professor Slughorn's doors to his classroom. "Salazar Slytherin was a renowned Poison Master back in his days, Riddle, and it was believed that The Chamber of Secrets held all of his precious ingredients and his notes on how to make the most potent poison to ever exist. Before Warren died, there were three victims before her who were paralyzed at that time due to an unknown substance that had entered into their bloodstream. I've noticed a common theme with the victims. The first victim was found in the classroom next to to girl's lavatories, the second victim was in the hallway, and the third victim was in the staircase. In Warren's case, she was found in the lavatories. They were all found in the same building and on the same floor where the lavatories is. Who was to say that Warren was poisoned, the same as the rest of the paralyzed victims, only her death was the desired results that the Heir of Slytherin wanted?"

She breathed in a breath of relief as she stopped in front of Professor Slughorn's classroom. She looked at him over her shoulder. "Of course, it's just a theory. It's not a fact until it's proven otherwise. Whoever opened The Chamber of Secrets at that time, because I believe that it was opened, was sloppy and careless. Whoever the Heir of Slytherin is was experimenting with Slytherin's works. He only stopped when Warren died."

"So, you think he stopped because someone died?" Riddle had an odd glint in his eyes as he regarded her.

Hermione shook her head, disturbed at the way he scrutinized her. "No," she disagreed. "He didn't stop because someone died. He stopped because the poison worked."

"I see," he intoned before giving her a smirk that heightened his cheekbones that could cut through glass. "This has been a very interesting conversation with you, Granger. I never thought that there's actually a brain inside of that pretty little head of yours or that you know how to use it."

Hermione scowled at him as she started to push the doors of the classroom open. "Yes, well, I can't say the same about you. Goodbye, Riddle." With a flash of a sarcastic smile, she went inside the room, the door swinging close behind her.

As soon as classes started, Hermione had completely forgotten about her conversation with Riddle in favor of dealing with Goblin Wars — it mostly started with collecting tax caused by Abraxas Malfoy the Second or also known as Abraxas the Corrupt — the Blood Wars I and II — which had a conspiracy theory that Slytherin himself was the leader leading the opposing side — and the House Elves Rebellion — that the House Elves unfortunately lost in after fighting back against the abuse. With all the bloodshed that she heard from Professor Slughorn, it was no wonder she was quite awake by the time that it was noon. She was still going to buy a black coffee though. She might've survived half of the day without but the longer it would take without coffee in her, the more she couldn't function during her classes, and that was simply unacceptable. She had to prepare herself for her debate with Padma Patil later in her culture class about Goblins or the little people who might possibly be the greatest mathematicians in the country, no matter what Padma claimed otherwise.

She was just passing the Godric Gryffindor building when she heard a familiar voice shrieking her name behind her. She looked over her shoulder to find Ginny running towards her, completely dressed in her Quidditch gear. She probably came from the Quidditch pitch, most likely training for the upcoming season, and saw her passing by. Quidditch was a famous sport in Hogwarts and it was a cross between baseball, basketball, volleyball and whatever sport out there that Hermione didn't know because she never really listened to Ron's rambling. Unlike the rest of her friends who attended Hogwarts Academy because of a Quidditch scholarship — aside from Harry who was a Criminology student. Thank Merlin for small mercies — Hermione wasn't a sports fanatic.

All she knew about Quidditch was the fact that it has seven players in total — a Keeper, a Seeker, two Beaters, and three Chasers — and three balls — Quaffle, Bludger, and the Snitch. The Quaffle was the one used to score, the Bludger was the one used to attack, and the Snitch was the one used to end the game. She didn't know most of the rules and she wasn't interested in how it was played but all she knew was that Quidditch was grueling, challenging, and overwhelming all at once. She would know that because she was the one always wayching from the sidelines. Beaters tackle other players whenever the opposing side were dribbling or passing the Quaffle to the goal post which was three rings in different heights and positins. Chasers and Seekers either get injured or pummelled in the game because they were the players who would score ten points for their team. Seekers were the ones tasked to find the Snitch, a mechanical golden ball the size of a golf ball that flew around the Quidditch pitch in a fast movement similar to a hummingbird. Meanwhile, Keepers were the ones who prevented the opposing side from scoring.

The Weasley family mostly consisted of Quidditch players. Honestly, Hermione had never met a family who loved sports as much as a Weasley. Nearly all of them were athletes, with the exception of Percy Weasley, the third son of the family who was now a spokesperson for Hogwarts. Ginny was a Chaser along with Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson; Ron was a Keeper; his twin brothers were Beaters; and Charlie, who was the second son of the family and a humanitarian who worked with endangered species, used to be a Seeker. The oldest son, Bill Weasley, who was now an employee at Gringrotts that specialized in rare tomes and objects, used to be a Quidditch Captain back in his high school. Arthur Weasley was an absolute sports fanatic and to see most of his sons and his only girl playing Quidditch was a dream come true for him, much to the annoyance of one Molly Weasley who constantly worried for her children's safety.

Hermione waved at Ginny, smiling slightly at the redhead's flushed cheeks as she panted in front of her.

"Just the person that I wanted to see!" Ginny exclaimed as she finally caught her breath.

There was a touch of suspicion in Hermione's smile. "And why exactly?"

Hermione didn't trust the gleam in her hazel eyes. It was too devious. "Do you remember when I told you last night that The Dragon Legacy has a concert this weekend at Hog's Head?"

"Yes..?"

"Well, you know that I've been following the band on The Quibbler. Wait, you know what The Quibbler is, right?"

Hermione slowly nodded, feeling a bit foolish that she was being asked that question. Despite that she hadn't have a life outside of her bedroom and the school, she didn't live under a rock either; she knew what The Quibbler was. The Quibbler was a social networking site that was devoted to connect the world from one user to another. People could form personal or business relationships no matter where they were with the help of The Quibbler. Ginny's current girlfriend, Luna Lovegood, was the daughter of the founder and CEO, Xenophilius Lovegood.

Hermione had an account in The Quibbler although she did keep it in private with only thirty four followers while she was following twenty three others. Unlike Ginny — who had nearly two thousand followers that were half composed of people she didn't know — she didn't want strangers following her account or messaging her. Hermione's purpose of the account was to contact her other classmates regarding their projects outside of class. Outside of that, she didn't bother posting anything else aside from random pictures of herself — that she only used to change her profile pictures — and other sceneries such as sunsets and beaches.

"Oh, right. I forgot you have an account. Stupid question." Ginny rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I read an announcement from the band a while ago. It turns out that they're having a singing contest this week and whoever wins gets two free tickets and one VIP pass to the concert this weekend!"

Hermione's eyes widened and she could only stare, mouth agape, as the redhead grinned brightly at her. She blinked her eyes twice, trying to comprehend the implications of her statement. Ginny rarely shared things that didn't have a reason. It didn't take a moment for the answer to dawn on her.

"And you want me... to join the competition?" Hermione concluded, her voice taking an incredulous note at the end of her question.

"Duh!" Ginny punched her shoulder, ignoring her pained 'ow!' and her glare. "I mean, I'd join if I can but we already know that I don't have any musical talent whatsoever."

"And I have?"

Ginny scowled. "I told you not to play coy with me, Hermione. Harry once told me that you auditioned for Beauxbatons Arts Academy and was offered a partial scholarship in music. The only reason that you didn't accept is because you don't want to be far away from Harry and Ron and you wanted to get an academic degree or something. We all know how hard it is to get a scholarship from Beauxbatons, considering its high standards, and you got a partial one. That means you're that good, Hermione."

Hermione slowly shook her head, feeling slightly out of depth by the conversation she was subjected to. "Ginny, singing is just a hobby for me, and I didn't even take my audition that seriously because I had already decided to apply to Hogwarts Academy before I was offered a scholarship. Harry and Ron know that."

"That doesn't mean that you didn't get a partial scholarship from Beauxbatons and you haven't even tried that hard. Imagine if you did!" Ginny cried out, reaching and putting her hands on her shoulders. "Hermione, I rarely ask something from you—"

"Need I remind you that you 'asked' me to help you with that paper about the summary of _Quidditch Through The Ages_ last week? And also, you 'asked' me to lie to your mother so you can see your girlfriend—"

"Oh, hush." Ginny pouted, her cheeks taking in a slightly pink hue. "That's not the point. My point is, you have the chance to enter in this contest and win! You can see Rhaegar again!"

Hermione opened her mouth and promptly closed it shut when Ginny mentioned Rhaegar's name. She pursed her lips, breathing in deeply through her nose. She ignored the way how her heart leaped because of the blond's name or how she felt her blood rushing to her cheeks to create a natural rosy blush. She berated herself for such a ridiculous reaction. She had only met him once. It was one meeting that had imprinted itself in her mind. She had accepted the fact that it was the only meeting that she was going to get.

"Ginny, I love you, but this is insane," Hermione told her, shaking her head.

"Hermione, I love you too, but it's not!" Ginny insisted. "I mean, don't you want to see him again?"

Hermione paused, then shook her head. "I... It doesn't matter what I want."

"It does matter," Ginny contradicted her. "Come on, Hermione. Don't you want to live spontaneously for once? I mean, when did you ever made a risk?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "It's not about living spontaneously, Ginny, or living on the edge. Look, Rhaegar and I are from two completely different worlds. It... I think it's best if we move on with our lives and leave our chance encounter untouched."

Ginny dropped her hand from her shoulder and crossed her arms across her chest. "Hermione, do you hear yourself right now? I never expected for you to become a coward."

Hermione glared at her, not appreciating her statement. "It's not about being a coward or being brave. It's about being a realist. Honestly, Ginny, I don't know what you want from me."

"I want you to take this chance, Hermione," Ginny stated, looking exasperated. "Doesn't this all seem coincidental to you? I mean, you met him once, thinking that you'll never see him again, then this announcement shows up and you got the talents to win! Out of all people you could've possibly met that night, you met him. Who's to say that it isn't fate?"

"Ginny, don't be ridiculous." Calling it fate was too farfetched for Hermione's liking. "This isn't a fairytale, this is real life. Who's to say that he still remembers me, anyway?"

"If he doesn't remember you anymore, you'll remind him!"

Hermione sighed. It was tiring to argue with someone like Ginny who always had a comeback prepared. Just like her mother, Molly, Ginny didn't take no for an answer. She would bully her way to get someone to say yes to her. It was an admiring skill when it was aimed at someone else. Hermione winced. It was aggravating when it was used on her. What's worse was the fact that Hermione couldn't be properly mad at her because Ginny had her best interest at heart. The redhead would never try to lead her wrong.

"Not everything is that easy, Ginny," Hermione told her. "Besides, if I join, there's no guarantee that I'm going to win."

Ginny shook her head. "I'm not expecting you to win, Hermione. Well, not much anyway. I just want you to take this chance. You have the opportunity to meet him again and I don't want you to waste it. I don't want you to regret anything once this chance passes by. Look, you always assume things before making a proper decision and you never stop to consider that you're wrong."

"That's because I'm rarely wrong," Hermione remarked.

"What if you are wrong this time?" Ginny stared intently at her. "Please, Hermione. It never hurts to try. I'm not asking for your answer right now. Just think about it, okay?"

Hermione hesitated and stared at the redhead whose gaze on her was sincere and pleading. She could feel her resolve crumbling and she sighed.

"You should consider a career in law," Hermione quipped.

Ginny's face brightened when she grinned. "Is that a yes?!"

Hermione sighed and gave her a small smile. "Yes, I'll think about it."

"Good enough for me! The deadline is tomorrow so I expect an answer once I get back home." She reached out and wrapped her in a tight hug, whispering to her ear, "I just want the best for you, Hermione."

The brunette smiled as she patted the redhead's arm around her neck. "I know you do," she murmured.

Ginny finally released her and with a jubilant smile that wrinkled the corners of her eyes, she hurried back towards the Quidditch pitch, her straight fiery red hair bouncing behind her. Hermione watched her, pursing her lips, uncertainty written across her face as plain as the clear cloudless sky. She gripped the strap of her bag tighter and started heading towards the Rowena Ravenclaw building once the redhead vanished out of sight. All the way, she couldn't help but think about her conversation with Ginny.

She didn't want to admit it but Ginny's suggestion and overall idea was as tempting as the forbidden fruit was to Eve. She really wanted to take the chance. She wanted to live spontaneously for once but her reservations had her hesitating — which was ironic and a clear contradiction to her wanting to live spontaneously. There was a large possibility that Rhaegar had already forgotten about her. She didn't want to make a fool of herself, assuming that if she won and they see each other again, he'd be utterly clueless about her existence. Other than being embarrassed, if he forgot about her, their first meeting would be tainted and she'd mourn the loss of their innocent encounter.

It was true that she had the talent and skill to join the contest without humiliating herself in the process but should she take the chance when she was so certain a while ago that she wasn't going to see him again? She had always assumed that the first time they met was also their last and the idea that Ginny had presented to her was too good to be true. She thought about the black jacket that she had neatly folded and tucked away at the bottom of her closet, and she worried about the consequences if she didn't accept the opportunity to meet Rhaegar again.

She didn't want to regret not taking the chance. She didn't want to think about what-ifs. But how would Rhaegar react to seeing her again? She didn't think that he still remembered her. If he did, would he think that she was just another fan of his if she entered the contest and won? She cringed. She didn't want to be mistaken as a fangirl considering that she didn't know about him until after they met. But, aside from that, what did she have to lose if she participated in a contest that she might not win in? Absolutely nothing, that's what. She didn't even know why she was making such a big deal about this.

Hermione brought her hand up and rubbed her temples. They were all childish and unreasonable reasons, she knew. With a sigh, she pulled out her phone and composed a short message to Ginny, because why delay the inevitable, anyway?

_'Fine. You win. - **Hermione**'_

_'Fucking finally! I knew you couldn't resist me ;) - **Ginny**'_

She felt sick to her stomach but that must've been more nerves than anything.

"Spontaneous, Hermione," she muttered to herself, unbothered by the fact that someone could hear her talking to herself. "Spontaneous, remember? Oh, Merlin, what have I just done? Circe, I need coffee."

Preferably with caffeine — to keep her sanity together.

She hoped that it wouldn't bite back in her ass.


	4. The Girl Who Sang She-Wolf

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, the Song of Ice and Fire series, and the TV show Game of Thrones. I only own the lyrics to the song, 'She-Wolf.'**

**NOTE: Rhaella Targaryen — who's originally Aerys' sister-wife in the books — is a Martell in this story because I wanted the Targaryen's to have Dornish cousins. Also, Portkey is the equivalent of an airplane/airline, Apparate is the equivalent of a taxi, and Floo Network is a train. The bus will remain as the bus because I had mistakenly mentioned it in the first chapter and I don't want to call a taxi or bus a 'broomstick' because I'd really be pushing it.**

**Thank you for the reviews, everyone! I'm glad that you enjoyed this story! ~ NR xx**

**Chapter Four**

**_The Girl Who Sang She-Wolf_**

Daenerys Targaryen thought that the girl in the video was admittedly pretty. She had pale skin, dark eyes, and ebony hair that was cut short to her chin. Watching her speak wasn't satisfying, but it was tolerable despite the unfortunate pug-like nose that somehow fit in with the rest of her features. The problem, however, was that the girl — "Pansy Parkinson," she had said at the start of the video with a wink — couldn't sing for shite. No matter how pretty she was, it didn't change the fact that her whole image was ruined because of her voice. Which was a shame, to be honest. The worst part, in Dany's opinion, was watching the gestures: the way her hands moved, the way her body swayed, the curve of her smirk upon her lips, and her expressions as she hit a high note unsuccessfully. It was all too painful to watch.

Dany hated people who were confident about something they shouldn't be. In her opinion, the delusions and arrogance of those people was distasteful. The fact that this Parkinson chit had been so smug at the end of the video, as though she was certain that she was going to win and would get the chance to meet them in person — "I'm a big fan of Viserys and I am so excited to meet him!" — was enough for Dany to shut the video down in a brutal and unapologetic move. No one had protested. She dropped back down on her seat and shot a sidelong glance at one of her older brothers beside her who was rubbing his forehead, probably having a headache because of the girl's voice. It wouldn't surprise Dany; she felt the same coming her way.

"How many more are we going to endure?" Dany questioned aloud to the others who occupied the slightly dimmed room with her.

"We have to watch at least a couple of hundred more before we call it a night," Viserys mumbled beside her.

Dany almost spluttered but she stopped herself before she could. Viserys had little tolerance for childish reactions such as spluttering and he would undoubtedly direct his annoyance at her if she did. Their eldest brother, Rhaegar, induldged her, reasoning that she was young and needed to enjoy her life before she started thinking like an adult. It was really no wonder why Rhaegar was her favourite brother. Viserys wanted the best for her, of course, but admittedly, his best did more harm than good.

"That many?! By the Seven, I need a drink to endure this shite!" Someone in the room exclaimed. It was quickly followed by thundering footsteps and glass clicking and thumping on a wooden surface.

Dany squinted her lavender eyes at the only dark haired man in the room who was standing behind the bar counter. "Are you drunk already, Baretheon?"

Robert Baretheon glanced up from the firewhiskey he was pouring in a small glass to lock his eyes at Dany's own ones across the room. Despite being second cousins with the Targaryen family, Robert was a true born Baretheon spawn because of his dark hair that was like raven feathers, blue eyes that was more sea than sky, large frame, and thick, steele like muscles. He was one hell of a man, resembling a giant with his 6'7" height that easily towered the people he came across with. Dany was certain that he could crush someone's head using his bare hands within seconds — which didn't bode well considering that he was short tempered and his fury was similar to an erupting volcano.

Viserys thought that he was a nuisance and although her older brother thought the majority of the people he met were a nuisance, Dany couldn't help but silently agree with his assessment of their second cousin. Robert was a difficult man to deal with, especially with his temper tantrums. He might be charming, flirtatious, and friendly when he wanted to be but it didn't really escape the reality that he was also an alcoholic and a man whore; two combinations that spoke of trouble. So far, Dany still didn't know the reason why their manager had agreed to let Robert join their tour. In the first week that they arrived in Hogwarts, they had already been kicked out of various of establishments because of him either starting a brawl or flirting with other people who weren't interested in him which he greatly took offense in. Rhaegar couldn't control him and the only person who could was a Portkey away.

"Not enough for this," he grunted, drinking the shot of firewhiskey in one big gulp and releasing a hiss right after. "Hoo! That shite is stronger than Dornish wine!"

Viserys rolled his eyes at him, his lips curling in disdain and his nose flaring indignantly when Robert let out a loud burp. He immediately dismissed him and turned to her. "Where is Rhaegar?" He demanded, silently seething and his purple eyes — darker than hers and Rhaegar's — flashing.

Dany let her head fall back, platinum blonde curls spilling over the edge of the backrest. "Rhaegar's with Jon, probably discussing some things about the band."

Jon Connington was Rhaegar's best friend and also the band's manager. Whilst Viserys only tolerated people he approved of — which only consisted of her, Rhaegar, and their parents — Jon only tolerated one person in his life and that was Rhaegar Targaryen, his best friend. Jon didn't like handling or talking with other people aside from Rhaegar although he was very dedicated in his role as the band's manager. Dany suspected that the only reason Jon agreed to be their manager was because Rhaegar was the one who formed The Dragon Legacy and he also agreed into letting Robert come along with them because Rhaegar insisted upon it. The two of them were childhood friends and there was nothing Jon wouldn't do for Rhaegar. Honestly, if Dany didn't know any better, she would think that there was something going on with them.

Viserys frowned. "He should be here with us."

"I'm sure that they're going to be here soon," Dany assured him before he could start erupting the famous Targaryen temper.

Whilst Targaryen's weren't the same as the Baretheon's fury, they still had fire in their veins and fire was known to destroy. Viserys, in particular, couldn't quite grasp his fire very well, a trait that he inherited from their father, Aerys Targaryen, which made him stubborn, impulsive, reckless, and often rash. In fact, it took a very special type of patience to endure Viserys whenever he was having one of his moments. Despite being titled as the Last Dragon in their family, Rhaegar didn't let his fire consume him. He was the most coolheaded one in their family, the one who could still think sensibly and rationally even with his fire blazing. She didn't think that she'd seen Rhaegar acting on impulse, which was a rare feat considering their family's history.

On the other hand, Dany preferred to think that her actions weren't ruled by her fire but she knew that was a lie. She wouldn't be a true born Targaryen if she didn't have any spark of fire within her. Her fire could rival Viserys' but was tempered by her compassion more than anything else. Oftentimes, she was called the Mother of Dragons by their Dornish cousins which was strange since she was just eighteen years old and last time she checked, she hadn't given birth to any children. Of course, it might be because she was the only one, aside from their mother, who could calm their erratic father and impulsive brother. The Seven knew that the two of them were like children in their own rights.

"Rather than wait for them to arrive, why don't we continue trying to find our winner instead?" Dany suggested, leaning forward towards the laptop on the table to find the next video. Hopefully, it wasn't someone with an ear shattering voice this time.

Since they were too busy for their next concert to hold a personal competition, they decided to let their fans send a video of them singing instead, using the hashtag TheDragonLegacyContest to validate their entry in the competiton. Jon thought that it was good publicity, that it was a way for the people to know that the band was willing to connect with their fans. Viserys thought that it was bullshite and wanted for them to rehearse for their concert rather than listen to a bunch of people singing pitifully — case in point, Pansy Parkinson. Robert didn't care although he did insisted that they'd choose a girl to be the winner. It didn't matter though since Rhaegar had already agreed and his decision weighed more than Viserys' and Dany's combined since Jon only listened to him most of the time.

It had been a successful announcement, so far. On the first day, they had received over a hundred videos from their fans in both Westeros and Hogwarts. By the time they reached the deadline — which was yesterday — they had reached two thousand entries. It was quite sobering to see so many people willing to support their band by entering the contest despite that a few of them were humiliating themselves. Some did have musical talents, thankfully, and they listed their names and saved their entries to watch later. Right now, they had a couple of hundred more to watch and they only had two days before the concert.

"Rhaegar should be here. He was the one who wanted to do this contest. He should be the one here," Viserys groused as Dany clicked on another video.

Dany rolled her eyes, glad that Viserys couldn't see because he would undoubtedly punish her for the audacity. "I'll text him, okay? Right now, we're going to watch this and wait for them to arrive."

The giant white screen in front of them glowed and Dany settled back in her seat, cuddling her stuffed dragon to her chest. It was a gift from her Dothraki boyfriend who was a professional boxer back in Westeros. A girl appeared on the screen, looking uncertain as she shot glances at the camera. Dany cocked her head to the side. She wasn't as pretty as Parkinson. One might argue that she was average or plain but Dany could see her potential to be pretty, at least, although based by Robert's grumbling — "Where did all the pretty ones went?" — he didn't agree with her observations.

The girl in the video couldn't be more than twenty. She had earthly tones and features; her skin was golden brown, her riotous curls that seriously needed taming was caramel — though Dany suspected that it had more than one colour — and her eyes were the lightest brown that Dany had ever seen. Honey, she concluded with a small amount of surprise. Brown was a common eye colour but her type of brown was rare. She was sitting behind a piano keyboard, fidgeting with her hair and trying not to look at the camera but utterly failing in the end. Dany hid a smile behind her stuffed dragon. This was going to be good.

_"Stop glancing at the camera all the time!"_ They nearly jumped when the shrilly voice erupted from the speakers and the girl in the video looked helplessly at someone behind the camera.

_"I'm sorry!" _She said with an accent that suggested that she was a resident in Hogwarts. _"I just... I don't know what to do and the camera is distracting me."_

_"You do know what to do," _the snappish voice responded. _"You don't have to look so nervous about this. Just think that there's no camera around here and it's just me. You could sing this song even in your sleep and it would probably be better than most people."_

The girl scowled and Dany thought that the nose wrinkle was cute. _"Yes, well, I'm not used to singing in front of a camera so excuse me if I'm nervous about it."_

"You're not used to a camera but you are used to a live audience, right?" The other retorted._ "Funny. I thought that a camera would make you feel better than a live audience."_

The girl pursed her lips. _"Why don't you sing here and find out which one is better?"_

_"And embarrass myself?"_ The one behind the camera snorted. _"No thanks. I love myself too much. Why don't you start already? The deadline is this afternoon and I have to edit this shit."_

The girl sighed. _"Fine. I can't believe that I let you talk me into this,"_ she said before looking directly at the camera and smiling a bit too strained, obviously uncomfortable. _"Hello, my name is Hermione Granger and I'm from Hogsmeade, Hogwarts. I'm nineteen years old and I am going to sing _She-Wolf_ by The Dragon Legacy."_

Viserys scoffed. "Good luck with that."

Dany didn't spare a comment but her eyebrows did rose. It wasn't entirely surprising for someone to enter using one of their songs and _She-Wolf _was pretty common due to its popularity. It was a sad kind of love song and Rhaegar had always been emotional whenever singing that particular song. However, her brother sang the song so beautifully that anyone who tried to do the same just couldn't compare. Her brother's voice spoke to the soul and anyone who tried to match him either ruined the song completely or humiliated themselves because of their fake sincerity. She hoped that Hermione would be decent; she got a good feeling about her and she didn't want that feeling to be ruined because Hermione couldn't sing the song as beautifully as her brother.

_"Woo! Go, girl!"_ The one behind the camera cheered and the girl — Hermione — shot her a glare.

Hermione poised her long and slender fingers on the keyboard and inhaled deeply, probably trying to calm herself and get rid of her nerves. Then she started playing the opening intro of the song and Dany relaxed further in her seat. She prayed to the Seven, as Hermione opened her mouth to finally sing, that she'd make it to the list, at least.

_"Am I allowed to call you my darling?_

_Am I allowed to call you mine?_

_Can I tell you that I'm falling?_

_Or, would you rather that I hide?"_

Dany blinked, and blinked some more. Viserys, who usually had a scathing comment or two after someone sang the first verse, was unusually quiet. Even Robert had lowered his shot of firewhiskey on the table as he eyed the girl with newfound interest.

"Well," Dany said in the silent room, "that was... unexpected."

The girl behind the camera was right: Hermione could sing this in her sleep and it would still sound better than most people who sang it awake. Despite that her actions were uncertain a whilst ago, her voice was the exact opposite. She sang like someone with an experience and it betrayed her confidence. Frankly, Dany thought that she had a right to be confident about her voice. It wasn't the same as her brother's — no one could ever match his voice — but it was infinitely better than most people.

_"Oh, you must know that I can't pretend,_

_With these doubts running inside of my head (Ooh)_

_Oh, you must know that I can't walk away._

_No, not while I want you to stay._

_But I can't beg you to stay."_

Dany's eyes almost fluttered shut at the raw emotions in Hermione's voice. She displayed the right emotions and expressions for the song; it wasn't as overdone and as exaggerated as the others who sang before her. Honestly, if she won the contest, Dany wanted to see her sing with Rhaegar and wanted to hear the kind of blend their voices would make. She was good, too good in fact that Viserys — the biggest critic in Westeros, as far as she knew — couldn't even make a complain. Viserys was hard to please and a complete perfectionist, and it would take a miracle for someone to make him speechless. Dany knew he was because she herself couldn't form any words to disrupt the song.

The sound of the door opening and closing behind Dany didn't make her eyes wander from the girl in the video. Not even when she heard her brother's voice and the band's manager, signalling that they had finally arrived. Robert and Viserys might've had the same thoughts as her because no one greeted them.

"What's happening here?" Her brother sounded amused.

"Shh!" Dany immediately shushed him, her attention entirely on the screen. She bit the nail on her thumb. It was going to be the chorus soon and this was going to make or break the girl.

_"Beautiful, untamed, uncontrollable._

_A she-wolf is what you are called._

_Who's feisty and bold, whose words can cut like a sword._

_A wild and pretty thing._

_No one can see the pain that she brings._

_She fights and she bites._

_She cheats and she lies._

_A she-wolf who struck this heart of mine."_

"Oh, Seven," Dany breathed out, leaning forward; her elbows propped on her knees and her hands cupped her cheeks.

She was absolutely perfect! Dany couldn't describe her voice. It wasn't in the same league as Rhaegar's but if she could choose someone as a female counterpart for her brother, Dany would immediately choose Hermione Granger. For the lavender eyed and platinum blonde girl, she was it for the contest. She was definitely going to vote for her later!

"It's her..."

The soft comment was sudden and Dany whipped her head towards her eldest brother who was staring intently at the girl in the video as though he was willing it to burn in his mind. The expression on his face was strange; it was a cross between admiration and disbelief. Dany had never seen him making that kind of expression before.

_"Oh, when will you see, my darling?_

_That I don't really want to hide_

_You know that I've already fallen_

_But you still say you're not mine."_

"Who is?" Jon demanded, lips pulled down into a frown.

"The girl that I was talking to you about," Rhaegar responded, eyebrows twitching upwards when Hermione sang the refrain and chorus flawlessly. "The one I met at The Three Broomsticks."

"The one who could speak Parseltongue?"

Rhaegar was still staring at the girl. She was about to sing the Bridge of the song. "Yes, that one."

_"With the ice in your veins_

_And the steele in your eyes_

_I failed to see that I can't survive."_

"You know her?" Dany enquired, sitting straight in attention. She was fascinated by the intrigue in her brother's eyes.

"I met her but I don't really know her," he corrected. "Remember when we performed at The Three Broomsticks? We were having our break and I went outside to call Arthur. She was outside in the snow, saying that she was waiting for her friend."

"Wait, that was the bird that I saw you talking with?" Robert questioned, tipping his shot of glass at his direction. "When I called you because you were going to perform again?"

Rhaegar nodded. "Yes."

_"Oh, with an arrow in your hands_

_And the sword by your side_

_I failed to see the wolf inside_

_But does he see the wolf in disguise?"_

"You mean you met a fan who decided to join this contest to stalk you?" Jon assumed, blue eyes flashing. He looked displeased by his own statement.

"I don't think that she knew me, actually," Rhaegar said, shaking his head. "When I told her my name, she didn't react in a similar way that a fan would. I never expected that she'd join the contest."

"Maybe it's fate," Robert said, chuckling to himself.

Dany rolled her eyes, hearing his slurred words and thinking that he was drunk again. Robert spoke of nonsense whenever he was drunk. It was meant as a joke, obviously, but Rhaegar's eyes widened and his lips parted. The wonder that had crossed his face was a familiar one to Dany. It was the same expression he wore whenever he read an information he hadn't learned before and when he was finishing a new song and playing it after in his guitar. It was the same look she saw when he discovered he wanted to form a band and wanted to apply into the music industry as a musician.

"Yes," he agreed quietly, looking enthralled. "Maybe it is."

_"Beautiful, untamed, uncontrollable_

_A she-wolf is what you are called_

_Who's feisty and bold, whose words are sharp like a sword_

_A wild and pretty thing_

_No wonder I can't see the pain she brings."_

"So, we've got ourselves a winner, then?" Jon questioned, crossing his arms.

"You're kidding me, right?" Viserys spoke, disbelief coating his voice. "We haven't even finished the rest of the videos! We can't just let this girl win because Rhaegar knew her! Besides, she isn't even a fan!"

Rhaegar frowned. "Viserys is right. I've only just met her once after all. I don't know her. It would be favouritism if we choose her." But even as he said this, he looked troubled and reluctant.

_"She fights and she bites_

_She cheats and she lies_

_A she-wolf who struck this heart of mine._

_She-wolf..._

_She-wolf."_

"Wait, wait!" Dany jumped up from her seat, paying no mind on her stuffed dragon that tumbled down on the carpeted floor. "I want her to win!"

Viserys stared at her, flabbergasted. "What? What are you talking about, Daenerys?"

Dany placed her hands on her hips. "I was actually thinking of voting for her before Rhaegar revealed to us that he met her. I mean, she's singing _She-Wolf_, Viserys, and she sounds nearly as good as our brother. I want to meet her and I want to hear her sing in person."

Viserys scowled at her. "It doesn't matter what you want, Daenerys."

_"She fights and she bites_

_She cheats and she lies_

_A she-wolf who broke this heart of mine."_

"It does," Dany argued irritably, not noticing that the song and the video had ended. "I'm a part of this band, just like you are, big brother. And need I remind you that I wrote half of the songs in our album? The _Prince Who Was Promised_, particularly, is a hit."

Viserys' face reddened and his face contorted into rage. "It wasn't my fault that you rejected my song, was it?" He spat vehemently.

"_Beggar King_ was awful," Dany shot back, feeling slightly vindictivel at Viserys for making her feel like a child. She was eighteen, not eight! "I mean, what kind of person would listen to, _'I would make you beg, beg until the end. And when no words are said, to hell I would send, the Beggar King who'd make you kneel and when no one begs, he would kill'_? Only a psychopath would listen to that!"

"Why, you little—"

"Enough," Rhaegar admonished them sternly. They immediately quieted but not after exchanging glares. He sighed and looked at their manager. "What do you think, Jon?"

The red haired man hummed in consideration. "I got to admit," he said, "they both have a point. This girl is good but we don't want blatant favouritism to happen in our team."

Dany made a noise of protest at the back of her throat. "Why don't we play the video again, then?" She suggested with a challenging glint in her eyes. She had always been competitive and having two older brothers did nothing to curve that. "She's better than most of the people I heard and Viserys didn't even make a comment when she sang and you know how hard it is to please him!"

Viserys looked away. "That's besides the point," he said, sniffing haughtily.

Dany scowled at him and turned her pleading gaze at her eldest brother. "Please, Rhaegar," she pleaded, wrapping her arms around his torso and peering up at him with large lavender eyes that could make even the most frightening men kneel before her. "You heard her sing, right? She's so talented, Rhaegar."

Rhaegar smiled softly at her in a way that Dany felt young again but not foolishly young — only Viserys could make her feel that. "I did, but no matter how much you and I want her to win, we can't disregard the rest of our fans. Why don't we finish the rest of the videos before coming into a decision?"

"Finally, someone who's speaking reason!" Viserys remarked, ignoring Dany's glare.

Dany grumbled and went back to her seat, snatching her dragon from the floor and hugging it to her chest for comfort. She knew she couldn't sway Rhaegar's decision and Jon would undoubtedly accuse her of being childish again with Viserys agreeing with him in the background. Sometimes, it was hard being the only girl in a room full of egotistical men who thought for her instead of asking her what she wanted. She wished not for the first time that she brought Missandei with her. Missandei was Dany's own Jon Connington and, if she was here, Missandei would've supported her wholeheartedly. It wouldn't have made a difference but it would make Dany feel better. It was too bad that Jon didn't agree with her wishes the same way he always agreed to Rhaegar's.

The rest of the evening was spent watching and listening to different people singing different songs. There were others who sounded good but Dany still upheld her decision to vote for Hermione. They didn't finish some entries because it was that bad and Viserys complained from the start, which made it hard to listen when someone was ranting loudly in the same room as you. Sometimes, Dany wanted to shove a dirty rag inside of her older brother's mouth so that he'd stop talking. Before they knew it, the sun was up in the sky, Robert had passed out after consuming three bottles of Ogden's Finest Firewhiskey, and they had finished the last of the entries, ears bleeding and bleary eyed.

Dany yawned and wiped the wetness on the corner of her eyes, a sign of her lack of sleep. Jon was nowhere to be found but Dany wasn't worried. He was probably in his room anyway, either sleeping or working. They had a rehearsal later that afternoon so it was probably the latter. Beside her, Viserys had succumbed to slumber and Rhaegar, ever the responsible and dutiful one out of all of them, was checking the names on their list. Dany scooted closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Aren't you going to sleep?" She mumbled tiredly, her eyes slowly slipping shut.

"Later," he whispered to her. "Go to sleep."

Dany nodded and promptly fell asleep. It was not easy sleeping on a couch when she was used to comfy king sized beds and she found herself waking up after an hour and two before passing out due to sheer exhaustion. The fourth time she woke up, the white screen was glowing and the speakers were blaring a familiar voice. Her head had fallen to her brother's lap and she could feel Rhaegar's hand rubbing her head. She assumed it was Rhaegar because he was the only one who rubbed her head like she was still a child. Viserys would balk at the idea, Robert would probably prank her, and Jon would leave her alone. Rhaegar was always the caring one.

_"—llo, my name is Hermione Granger and I'm from Hogsmeade, Hogwarts. I'm nineteen years old and I am going to sing _She-Wolf_ by The Dragon Legacy."_

Dany didn't notice the smile that had spread her lips as she fell into a deep sleep, listening to the beautiful voice that conveyed heartache and lost — much like her brother's. Oh, Hermione was so going to win.

**A/N: Well, this wasn't the Rhaegar Targaryen chapter that you, LeonaMasha wanted, but I hope it's alright to you xD Honestly, I don't think I've given Daenerys' voice a justice (although the writers did screw up her character on the last season). But I thought, 'ah, screw it. This is a modern AU and Dany's eighteen and she's allowed to be normal and adorable for once!'**

**Reviews are welcomed!**

**~ NR xx**


	5. Waiting For The Long Night

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, the Song of Ice and Fire series, and the TV show Game of Thrones.**

**Watch out for mistakes. I wrote this when I was half asleep and even proofread and edited this even feeling sleepier than usual. Excuse my wrong grammars and typos. Other than that, enjoy. ~ NR xx**

**Chapter Five**

**_Waiting For The Long Night_**

Ginny hadn't stopped talking since that early morning and Hermione hadn't found it within her to tell her to stop. She was a flurry of activity, talking in an excited voice that made no room for anyone else. It didn't matter to Hermione; she was content to listen. Scratch that. She would rather listen than provide a feedback because she didn't think she could. She was sitting on her bed, watching as the redhead moved back and forth across her room, examining different clothes — Hermione's clothes — in the light before flinging it to the floor after making a face of disgust. Hermione wasn't offended by her expression that were varying degrees of disgust and outrage, knowing that they had different opinions and tastes in fashion. She had long since given up on picking her clothes from the floor to drop it on her bed and just let it scatter around her room instead even though the neat freak in her was whimpering at the sight.

Inside her sweaty hands was a crumpled paper that was originally emailed to her and Ginny had taken the time to print it on paper as soon as she discovered the contents inside the said email. Hermione looked down and opened it, smoothing the wrinkled parts and carefully trying not to rip it in the damp spots. She absently noted that the sweat in her hands had roughened the texture of the paper. She stared at the words in black ink, still feeling astonished as she read the email for the nth time that day. It felt surreal staring at the statement: _'We would just like to extend our congratulations to you for winning The Dragon Legacy Contest.' _Some part of her was thinking that it was a joke, that they had made a mistake, but a few hours after reading the email, she received a mail that contained two front row tickets and one VIP pass to the concert.

It was real. It wasn't a joke. Ron's twin brothers, Fred Gideon and George Fabian Weasley — the two most troublesome people that she had ever met — weren't going to come out of her closet and laugh at her for believing that she'd won. This wasn't a cruel trick by Ron or Harry or Harry's godfather, Sirius Black. Somehow, out of all the people that had joined the contest, they had chosen her. She wasn't even a fan although she did enjoy their music. Some part of her was flattered but a bigger part of her was worried: Did they chose her because they thought that her voice was the best out of all that had entered the contest or because of Rhaegar? Had he remembered her somehow and chose her because of whatever reason he could only think of?

The concert was tonight at 8 in the evening in Hog's Head stadium which was in Dumbledore's Grounds, a city that was a one hour drive away from Hogsmeade. While Hermione claimed the VIP pass, she gave Ginny the two extra tickets since she didn't think Ron and Harry would be interested in going to a concert with her. They would rather attend a Quidditch match being the sport fanatics that they were and they would most probably be shocked that she would attend a concert that involved the kind of music that The Dragon Legacy produced. Also, she didn't want to explain how she knew the lead singer of the band. Even though there was nothing going on between the two of them — and there was nothing going on, really, no matter what Ginny was trying to imply — they would undoubtedly threaten Rhaegar, famous singer or not.

Ginny was understandably excited for the event and even went as far as bragging about the tickets that she received, citing that it was only right that she got the tickets considering that she was the one who told her and convinced her to join the contest. Hermione didn't point out that she was the one who sang and it was her voice that had won the contest. There was no need to spoil the mood by arguing about who did what and frankly, it was a joined effort. The redhead had been following The Dragon Legacy long before Hermione had met Rhaegar and she was a big fan of Daenerys, the drummer and the only girl of the band. It turned out that it was Luna who introduced the band to her so it was without question that the other ticket was given to her. Ginny's girlfriend even offered to use her car and pick them up, and although Hermione didn't want to be in the same place as Ginny and Luna — the two of them together could make the most sexually active person blush — she accepted the offer.

Hermione didn't voice it out but she dreaded meeting Rhaegar again. She didn't think that she was ready to meet him again at all, but the redhead was absolutely ecstatic. It was part of the reason why she was invading her room that moment and taking the time to pick her clothes apart. Ginny wanted her to look presentable to Rhaegar and find the appropriate attire for her, or in other words, "find an amazing outfit that can emphasize that perky breasts and that cute butt of yours." The brunette was too mortified to give her a response. Frankly, she didn't care what she wore or what she looked like. Her nerves were currently twisting her stomach, making her feel sick, and weighing on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. Why she hadn't passed out was a miracle to her.

This whole idea was terrible and insane and it wasn't the first time that Hermione questioned herself if she had lost her sanity when she agreed to join, or if she had lost a couple of her brain cells — as horrifying as that sounded — when Ginny approached her. Honestly? Screw spontaneity! Screw recklessness! Screw living in the moment and on the edge! She would rather stay on the ground, where she was safe, than hang on a thin rope at the edge of a cliff, where falling and getting hurt was a guarantee. She was tempted to jump at the first Portkey to The South of The Wall and wait until The Dragon Legacy was out of Hogwarts before coming back. Try as she might not to, she was coming up with scenarios that varied from normal 'hey-nice-to-see-you-again' to the most outlandish 'did-you-came-to-stalk-me?' and 'call-the-security'.

Hermione was a proud person and to be accused of being a stalker, out of all things, was a punch to her pride because she knew she was above that. She could handle being called an insufferable know-it-all any time because, at least, it was the truth. She wasn't some silly and vapid girl with fantasies and romance in her mind, willing to do whatever it took to get some boy to notice her. Her pride demanded more than that. She hadn't even asked Ginny for more information about Rhaegar or about the band. She was the go-to girl for facts and she could argue even the most stubborn person in the world to agree with her and see her point — Tom Riddle notwithstanding. She was confident in her abilities to recite facts, make the most ridiculous theories valid, and find the most obscure information with little resources.

It was one of the reasons why she chose to major in History because the accounts of the past were considered in most cases as the truth and she was brilliant when it came to knowing the truth. However this feeling, this uncertainty, was completely out of her depth. She was going into this completely blind and this wasn't something she was used to. She admitted that the subject of boys wasn't an area she was an expert in and she was more or less panicking about seeing a boy that was so different from her and from the world she lived in. She was nearly hysterical just by the thought of it. She joined a contest and, in a few hours, was going to a concert for a boy — a man, really — like the ones in Ginny's romantic comedy movies. The comparison wasn't flattering at all.

"Ginny," she called, unsuccessfully keeping the alarm and panic out of her voice as she looked up to meet hazel eyes from across the room, "what if this was a mistake?"

"What?" Ginny paused and her face fell when she saw her expression. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me you're backing out now?"

She groaned and massaged her temples. "I mean, what was I thinking, honestly? Joining this contest to see a boy I only met once? What would people think if they find out?!"

Ginny rolled her eyes at her. "Hermione, the people aren't going to find out. As far as they know, you're the girl who won the contest. The last thing that people would think is that you're a slut although there will be fans who would think otherwise but that's to be expected. Most would probably think that you're a fan or something. Why are you worrying about what they think anyway?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "You know what happened the last time something like this happened."

Ginny winced and made a noise of pain at the back of her throat as though she had been punched in the stomach and was holding in her reaction after. "Ah, yes," she grimaced, "the Rita Skeeter debacle."

Even hearing her name made Hermione's blood boil. Years ago, back when they were studying at Godric's Hollow High School, a famous Quidditch player from Dumstrang had transferred into their school. His name was Viktor Krum and he was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. Hermione was a Third Year at that time and he was a year older and while many people were enamored by his looks and fame, she was mostly busy with her schoolwork to care. She wasn't a fan, unlike Ron, and if it wasn't for the gaggle of girls that always followed him around, she would never have noticed that he was in the same room as she was. She should've known though that her lack of fascination for his celebrity status would capture his attention. It took a long while for Hermione to notice Viktor's interests to her and it wasn't until Ron had pointed it out one morning while she was studying for a test that she finally did.

She was the first person to approach Viktor the third time she saw him in the library and she realized that he was following her around in school. She knew that he was interested in her but she was appalled and indignant when she saw him tailing her, especially when Ron had mentioned that he was staring at her all the time whenever they were in the same room. The last thing that she needed was a stalker and a famous one with a large fanbase at that. When she confronted him, Vikor explained that he was trying to gather the courage to talk to her the whole time that he was following her. He was very sweet and shy when he said all of this but his actions unnerved her nonetheless and told him to stop in a voice that offered no room for excuses. Apparently, Viktor was only sweet at the beginning and was absolutely offended when she told him such a thing.

What followed after their conversation was a series of catastrophic events that had nearly destroyed her if it weren't for the help of her friends. Those events happened because of a famous journalist and reporter whose name was Rita Skeeter and who was one of Viktor Krum's fangirls. After everything that had happened to her, she never trusted another journalist and reporter again, and she was wary of Quidditch players that she didn't know. She had nothing against celebrities to be honest but, while most people tended to take a closer look at them, she preferred to stay at the back, unnoticed. Her lack of interest for celebrities might be the reason why she hadn't recognized Rhaegar for who he truly was. It was complete irony that the next guy that Ginny wanted to pair her with was another famous celebrity.

"But you do realize that this isn't the same as Krum, don't you?" Ginny said softly at her, looking at her in a similar way she looked at a wounded animal. "Rhaegar is completely different."

"And how do you know that?" Hermione frowned.

The only Weasley girl grinned teasingly. "Well, he isn't a Quidditch player for once."

Hermione groaned. "Ginny, it isn't funny."

She continued to grin although it was less jesting and more genuine. "Hermione, how will you know that he's different from Viktor if you don't take the risk and find out? I mean, I know you're scared and although I find it ridiculous at this point — no offense but it's the truth — I get it. I really do. You like your little world of stability and comfort and you rarely get out of it." She walked towards her and dropped on the spot beside her, her body angled to face hers. "But don't you think it's high time that you open the little world you built and just let people in for once?"

Hermione stared at Ginny as she looked straight ahead, appearing nonchalant, and she would've believed it if she hadn't witnessed the nervous shift in her eyes. It shocked the brunette into silence. Ginny was rarely nervous about something. In fact, she didn't think she had seen her looking nervous, not even when she asked Luna out. Her confidence was one of the reasons why Hermione found her intimidating. She was a formidable person and was one of the few people who could convince the brunette to get out of her comfort zone, something that not even Ron could do even though she knew him and was friends with him longer than his younger sister.

She was everything that Hermione wasn't. While Hermione was analytical, Ginny was instinctual. She didn't let rules or boundaries stop her from getting what she wanted. She was beautiful, fierce, carefree, and, although Ginny wasn't as great with facts as Hermione was, understood people far better than she ever did. To see her nervous — and for no reason at all — was a baffling sight to see.

"I know we're not that close," she started slowly, "I mean, you're closer with Harry and Ron than you are with me, and it's only been recently that we've been hanging out like this, like real friends and not just roommates, you know? Sometimes, there are moments when I don't know what to say to you or what to do and it makes me want to try harder to be a friend to you. But you seem so closed off most of the time and it makes me unsure whether it was the perfect time to hang out with you or not. So, I just chose not to and whenever I do, you turn me down for whatever reason."

Hermione was certain her jaw had dropped and her eyes were as wide as saucers at the end of her statement. She was dumbfounded and perplexed at what Ginny had revealed to her. She knew that she wasn't close to her but she didn't think that it bothered the redhead much. Whenever Hermione turned her offers down to finish one of her side projects or because she thought she was planning to go to a club, Ginny had never made a big deal out of it. However, now that Hermione was thinking about it, she recognized that her nonchalance was only a defense mechanism, a way for her to protect herself from the pain.

Hermione felt as though all the air in her lungs had been sucked out as the realization struck her. All throughout the past few months, she had been hurting the redhead and, throughout the entire time, she hadn't even known.

"Oh, Merlin, Ginny, I didn't know," Hermione said, sounding distressed. She was horrified and guilty that she had made her feel that way. "I'm so sorry. Oh, Merlin, I feel so awful for what I had done to you. You didn't deserve any of that. I didn't know that you were reaching out to me or that you were trying to befriend me."

"Yeah, I kind of noticed that halfway through. You weren't doing it out of malicious intent though." Ginny kept her tone light but she was still unable to meet her gaze. "You know the first week that I moved in and we became roommates and then I invited you to The Three Broomsticks with me later? It was because Harry told me you liked music and I thought to myself at that time, 'finally! Something we can agree on!'" She rolled her eyes. "Of course I didn't know that my kind of mysic wasn't the kind of music you liked. Sorry about that, by the way."

"You don't need to be sorry," Hermione assured her. "You didn't know."

"That's it," she spat, frustration lacing her voice. "I didn't know and I should have. I should've known that you liked classical music like Seraphine Zabini and not The Weird Sisters or something. I should've known because you know what kind of music that I like. You even gave me a signed copy of Celestina Warbeck's last album for my fourteenth birthday." Ginny looked down, eyebrows knitted in contemplation. "And even though you didn't like The Weird Sisters or that you weren't used to going to bars, you didn't leave me. You stayed despite everything and you took care of me when I had too much to drink afterwards. You didn't even complain, at least not aloud."

"I couldn't just leave you there," Hermione told her softly. "I admit that it was certainly not something I would normally do and I didn't enjoy it as much as you did, but I appreciated the gesture all the same, Ginny. The two of us are different but I have always considered you as my friend and I'm sorry that you thought otherwise. You are one of the few people who actively tries to understand me and not dismiss me and I am proud to have someone like you in my life. In my opinion, everyone should have a Ginny Weasley by their side."

Finally, she looked at her, a spark in her hazel eyes. "Really?" She sounded flattered. "You really think so?"

"Of course, I do," Hermione replied earnestly.

Ginny's face broke into a fullblown smile. "Is this the part where you and I kiss?" She queried with an impish raise of her eyebrows.

At hearing the casual joke from the redhead, Hermione couldn't stifle her laugh even as she admonished her, "Ginny! I can't believe you said that. What would Luna think?"

"She would probably offer a threesome." Ginny snorted, chuckling beside her.

"True." Hermione nodded, smiling.

The redhead settled her face into a serious expression. "The thing is, Hermione, I have always thought that asking you to hang out with me was a risk because I never know what answer you'll give me. However, that risk never stopped me from wanting to be your friend. Just like your worries shouldn't stop you from seeing Rhaegar again. One experience from someone famous shouldn't stop you from doing what you truly want, you know." She gave her a look. "And please don't tell me that you don't want to see Rhaegar again because if you didn't, you wouldn't have said yes."

Hermione released a lungful of breath from her mouth as she turned away. "I guess I'm just worried that it won't go the way that I want to. I could predict a thousand of ways for it to go wrong and I just don't want that to happen. I've always been cautious about the things that I have no control over. I'm afraid that this is one of the things that I have to be cautious about."

"You really do hate not knowing everything, don't you?" Instead of a light jesting tone, it was the weight of heaviness that accompanied Ginny's voice.

It made Hermione look at her with a weary smile. "You have no idea."

Not knowing everything meant failure. Not knowing everything meant watching your father suffer for three months without any relief or cure from a rare ailment that was centuries old, dated back to Aegon the Conquerer's Era. Not knowing everything meant having your mother look at you with disappointment when you got one or two wrong answers.

Hermione shook her head to banish the painful thoughts to the back of her mind and smiled brightly at the redhead. "You're right. I'm worrying over nothing. In the end, I agreed to join the contest and here I am now. I might as well just accept the consequences that I brought upon myself."

Ginny stared at her for a moment before finally giving her a small nod and jumping up to her feet. "Okay! Now that that's done and over with, why don't we go back to finding the most perfect outfit for you?"

Hermione darted her gaze around the clothes on the floor. "I think you already exhausted my clothes, Ginny. I mean," she sighed and started picking them up, "you clearly made a mess in my room."

"Is it my fault that the majority of your clothes are more reading-at-home-and-getting-comfortable type than the going-to-concert-and-seducing-the-lead-singer one?"

Hermione was about to retort but she snapped her mouth shut and didn't respond. Ginny, appearing pleased with herself, left the room with a 'be right back' parting over her shoulder. She sighed. She could only hope that whatever Ginny chose was appropriate enough and wouldn't land her in jail because of public indecency. If there was one thing Ginny loved more than sports and her girlfriend, it was clothes that showed off all of her assets, namely her hips and her butt — or so Ginny said to her one time. The more skin that was exposed, the better it was, in her opinion. Personally, Hermione was partial to long sleeves, jeans, and simple Nimbus 1000 shoes although she didn't think that the redhead would approve of that choice of outfit.

She heard Ginny's eager steps getting louder and she looked up as the redhead bursted from the door with a large smile on her lips, brandishing a shirt that made the brunette blanch and take a step back.

"Oh, no," Hermione muttered, staring at the shirt with a horrified expression on her face.

"Oh, yes." Ginny grinned, holding up a crop top that had Rhaegar's face printed on the front.

"Please tell me you're joking," said the brunette, laughing nervously.

The redhead tsked. "What have I told you about taking risks, hmm?"

"There's a difference between taking risks and humiliating myself, Ginny." Hermione eyed the top with trepidation. "Since when did you have that?"

"I bought it for you when I found out you met Rhaegar," she answered cheekily. "I figured I'd turn you into a Dragon."

"A Dragon?" Hermione repeated quizzically.

"That's what they call their fans: dragons. Dany is the Mother of Dragons, Rhaegar is the Last Dragon, and Viserys is the Young Dragon. You're a Rhaegal if you're Rhaegar's fan. Since I'm Dany's fan, I'm a Drogo." Ginny thrusted the top to her. "Now, why don't you try this on and see if it fits?"

Hermione casted an alarmed look at the top, not taking it from her outstretched arm. It wasn't until Ginny began laughing when she realized that the redhead was only messing with her. She was more relieved than annoyed. She didn't think wearing a top with Rhaegar's face on it would win her some points.

"Oh, Merlin, I'm kidding, Hermione!" She managed to say as she giggled. "Geez. I'm not going to make you wear that. That'll be suicide." She tossed the top to the bed along with the rest of Hermione's clothes.

"Oh, thank Merlin," she said, sighing in relief. "Can't I just wear what I always wear?"

"No," Ginny deadpanned. "That's not suicide. That'd be euthanasia."

Hermione humphed. "Well, what do you propose, then?"

Ginny grinned.

**o•O•O•o**

Hermione was waiting outside of The Leaky Cauldron for Luna to arrive while Ginny was still up in their apartment, making last minute touches on her make up. She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, checking the mental list in her mind that was mostly about clothes and other necessities that was surely inside her bag. It was already quarter to five, enough time for them to stop in their room in Hog's Head Inn before driving to the venue of the concert with more time to spare. Since the concert was likely to end late at night, they decided to book a room in Hog's Head Inn instead of driving back to Hogsmeade.

She pulled her jacket closer to her chest, hiding the red spaghetti strap shirt that Ginny insisted for her to wear beneath the fabric, and consciously tugged the black skirt she was wearing to reach her mid-thigh to no success. She had never worn a skirt that didn't reach past her knees before and she felt insecure with showing her legs to the world although Ginny assured her that it was fine. Her body wasn't something that she was confident in, especially her legs and stomach, and she was uncomfortable that she was going outside of her room with nothing to cover the rest of her legs. She felt naked and exposed. Even Harry and Ron commented on it when they met her in the hallway as she was leaving Ginny in their room.

"Merlin, Hermione," exclaimed Ron as he ogled her legs. He smiled at her right after, his gaze thankfully leaving the lower part of her body. "I didn't know you had legs and it looks good."

"Idiot." Harry slapped the back of Ron's head before giving her an awkward smile, cheeks slightly pink. He was obviously trying not to do the same thing Ron did. "Uhm, why are you wearing that kind of skirt?"

Hermione had blushed. "Ginny insisted. You know her. No one can really say no to her."

Ron continued to whistle at her, apparently appreciating the rare time Hermione decided to dress like a girl wanting to grab a boyfriend. On the other hand, Harry seemed as uncomfortable as she was, looking away and rubbing his neck. Her messy haired and green eyed friend eventually lent her his red jacket, darker than the top she was wearing, telling her that it would warm her legs for her later.

"You always get cold easily," said Harry with a shrug as he offered his jacket to her. "Wherever you and Ginny are going, I want you to stay warm at least. And please," he shifted on his feet, "cover your legs when you take a seat. I don't want guys ogling at you like this idiot is doing." He jerked his shoulder at Ron.

As their redheaded best friend protested, Hermione smiled at him before accepting his jacket and slipping it over her shoulders. Harry always seemed to look out for her well-being and although it could be annoying at times — especially when she made it explicitly clear that she could take care of herself like the time she punched Malfoy in the face — she appreciated his gesture all the same. Ron was the comedic friend who made her laugh and feel better about herself and, although he was occasionally a prat to her, he did have his rare moments such as comforting her when she was about to cry or was already crying. Harry, who was completely hopeless, bolted at the first sight of a crying woman.

These two boys were her brothers and she couldn't imagine a life without them. They were her family, and even though she could do without dirty socks and smelly underwear on the couch — that she discovered that one year she lived with them. Thank Merlin that Ginny decided to study at the same Academy as them — she absolutely loved them. They were the most important people in her life and she would do anything for them, just like they would do anything for her.

"Where are you going with my sister, by the way?" Ron had asked to her when they were going down the stairs. "You never said anything."

Hermione stroke a loose curly strand at the back of her ear. "To a concert," she told them hesitantly.

"Oh, so that's why you look sexy for once."

She scowled at Ron's tactless comment that he didn't appear to notice. Like she said before, he acted like a complete prat to her sometimes like making insensitive remarks about her appearance. Honestly, she suspected that he might be half the reason why she was so conscious about her body. Having boys as her best friends could have advantages as well as disadvantages too.

"What concert?" Harry questioned, looking concerned. "This isn't the same as The Weird Sisters, right?"

Hermione smiled at him. "No, thankfully. Ginny made me listen to the band's music this time and I kind of like it."

"Really?" Harry sounded surprised. "Wow. That must've been the first. I don't think you ever went to a concert before, either. You declined when I invited you."

"Oh, lay off her, Harry. Our Hermione is growing up and being a girl now." Ron grinned, swinging his arm on her shoulder.

Harry didn't seem to like what Ron had said but Hermione didn't refute it. Someday soon, Harry was bound to recognize that she wasn't eleven anymore and that she didn't need his rescue just like before. She hoped that, for his sake, he would realize that sooner rather than later.

The sound of a car approaching made Hermione snap out of her trance and she watched as a sleek blue car — Centaur, the newest model named Firenze — slowly halted in front of her. The door to the driver's seat opened to reveal a beautiful girl with long curly blonde hair that shined gold underneath the sun. She was smiling as though she was in a dream, wearing ridiculously large pink framed glasses that covered half of her face. Hermione couldn't help but smile back as the beautiful girl moved with grace towards her and engufled her in a tight hug that no one would think her thin arms were capable.

"Luna," said Hermione, hugging her back. "It's nice to see you. Well, half of you."

Luna Lovegood pulled back and pushed her glasses up to her head, unveiling silver blue moon-like eyes that always seemed to see through anyone's soul. Hermione eyed her dress which was black on the upper part but then bleeding red at the bottom. She had tied her hair back into a ponytail and there were three red heads protruding behind her head. The three heads were long and curved, resembling like a snake that was about to strike, but Hermione knew that the three heads symbolized the three headed dragons. Black and red were the band's colors while three-headed dragons were their symbol.

Hermione remembered that the symbol was the picture printed on Rhaegar's shirt the first night they met.

"Hermione," she said, a melodic lilt to her voice. She always sounded as though she was singing despite that she was only talking. "I see that you finally stopped having second thoughts about joining us. That's good. You worried Ginny earlier."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Did she tell you that?"

A beatific smile crossed her face, making her appear more ethereal. "She didn't need to." She hummed underneath her breath. "I know you, Hermione. You always second guess yourself for some reason even though you don't have to. You rarely make mistakes. You're the Brightest Witch of the Age, aren't you?"

Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes at the title she gave her before giving her a smile. Although Luna appeared to be gentle and easily distracted, Hermione knew how sharp her mind was, catching details that would've been overlooked by most people and adapting to changes as easy as changing her clothes. Perceptive and observant, Luna was possibly one of the smartest people she knew. At fifteen, Luna had helped her father develop The Quibbler, the most popular social network aside from Potterwatch. Before, Hermione would've dismissed her random comments but now that she had gotten to know her better, she treasured her advice despite how cryptic it was.

Currently, Luna was studying in Psychology at Hogwarts regardless that her father wanted her to study in Computer Programming. She once claimed that she wanted to be a vet and wanted to study animals but found studying human behavior much more exhilarating. She and Ginny were dating for two years now and in love far longer than two. Honestly, even with the inappropriate public displays of affection and ridiculous pet names that seemed endless, they were the loveliest couple that Hermione had ever seen. They were so sickeningly sweet, the kind that made you want to have a relationship of your own even though you didn't plan to.

"Luna! Baby! My Darling!" Ginny exclaimed from behind them, jumping from the last step of the stairs and running towards the blonde with an eager smile carved on her lips. "I missed you!"

Hermione hastily darted her gaze to the ground when they started kissing noisily. She made sure to keep her head down until the noises stop before finally looking up and catching them staring into each other's eyes, whispering sweet nothings to each other. She pursed her lips and shook her head when she found herself wanting to smile. Witnessing the two of them together never failed to make her feel adoration and fondness. She couldn't help it. They had such a comfortable relationship that was similar to Ginny's parents, the most loving couple in Hermione's opinion. One look at Luna and Ginny and you'd know that they were meant to last a lifetime together. She could do without the kissing though.

"Uh, sorry to intrude into your moment," she said to them, clearing her throat, "but shouldn't we be going?"

"Excited much?" Ginny sassily remarked as she rested her arm around Luna's waist. "Don't worry, Hermione, you'll arrive on time to finally greet your Last Dragon soon."

Hermione scowled at her. "He is not my Last Dragon," she muttered, sounding petulant.

Ginny snorted as they headed towards Luna's car. "Dude, your favorite song is _I'm The Last Dragon_ which is a song about Rhaegar."

"I didn't know that!" Hermione sputtered.

"Regardless," she said loudly as she opened the door to the front passenger seat, "that's still your favorite song. I mean, that's gotta be fate, am I right?"

Hermione made a sound of frustration at the back of her throat, ignoring Ginny's giggles as she slid into the backseat of Luna's car. She clicked her seatbelt into place and waited until Ginny was starting the engine of her girlfriend's car while Luna made use of the radio. It was an unspoken rule to never let Luna drive the car when there was someone else with her. Otherwise, people would get a heart attack if they were subjected to her driving. Luna had a habit of driving on the wrong side of the road in more than one occasion. Music started blaring and Hermione recognized it as another one of Celestina Warbeck's famous songs. The redhead shot her a grin over her shoulder.

"You ready, girls?" Ginny asked them.

"Yes, we are, my Blibbering Humdinger," Luna answered, tapping Ginny's nose with her forefinger.

Hermione groaned as the pet names started. They ignored her behind them and the brunette was all too ready to relax in her seat and enjoy the ride.

The one hour drive to Dumbledore's Grounds was uneventful. Ginny belted out songs, singing and screaming to The Weird Sisters, Celestina Warbeck's, and the occasional Knights of Walpurgis. Luna was occasionally humming and bobbing her head along with the music while Hermione contented herself with checking her phone for text messages from Harry — _'What time are you coming back? Did you bring enough clothes and snacks?' _— and Ron — _'Lavender wants an autograph from Rhaegar. Think you can give her one? Help a friend here, Mione.' _Surprisingly, she also received a text message from her own mother while Ginny stopped for gas.

_'I want you to come back to Godric's Hollow this weekend. There is something that I want to talk to you about. It's important. - **Mom**'_

Hermione blinked, stunned that her mother had contacted her. She didn't even know that she knew her phone number or that she had it since she never directly contacted her. She sighed and texted back an okay. She hadn't noticed that Ginny had come back and it wasn't until the car started moving that Hermione resolved to forget about her message for the rest of the day. She wasn't ready to face her mother and Rhaegar in the same day.

"We're here!" Ginny announced enthusiastically after a long ride of music and horrible singing.

Hermione looked out of the window, looking up at the large building in front of them. Hog's Head Inn was an establishment owned by Aberforth Dumbledore the Second, which was Albus Dumbledore's great nephew. Most of the establishments in Dumbledore's Grounds were owned by the Dumbledore family. Hog's Head Inn was founded by Albus' brother, Aberforth the First and it was only recently that Hog's Head stadium was built by Aberforth the Second, in honor of his late father. Hermione had half a mind to visit the Dumbledore's Resting Place before going to the concert, if she got away from Ginny and Luna.

They headed towards the building, Hermione trailing behind Ginny and Luna as the former chattered excitedly at the latter who, thankfully, had enough patience to listen. Their room — that was already paid by Luna — was in the fourth floor and at the end of the hall. It was a two bedroom room with a small living room area that separated the two rooms. Hermione chose the room closest to the front door and had already unpacked most of her things in the closet when Ginny knocked on her door.

"Hey," she greeted the redhead.

"Hey, you." The redhead grinned. "So, we have an hour left before we go to the concert. Want to grab a bite first?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm still full from the sandwiches we ate earlier."

Ginny hesitated before she eventually inquired, "Are you sure that you don't want to put make up on? I just—"

"Ginny," Hermione cut her off with a sigh. "I don't need make up."

"What about lipstick? A little color would help. I bought a new one from Narcissus—"

"No," was her firm answer.

Ginny sighed in defeat. "Fine, fine. I tried." She chewed her lower lip. "Well, Luna and I are going to grab a bite at The Kitchens. Are you sure that you don't want anything? Some fries, maybe?

Hermione smiled softly at her. "Maybe some éclair instead?"

Ginny grinned. "You got it, sweet cheeks. We'll probably come back quarter to seven or something. Sounds good?"

"Yes. Oh, I'm actually planning on visiting Dumbledore's Resting Place later or maybe the Hollows Museum?" Hermione hummed in contemplation. "There is so many historical sights in this place that I don't know where to start."

"Figures." Ginny snorted. "Enjoy your educational sight seeing. Just make sure you get back before eight, alright? We'll go to the concert together. See you later."

"Take care." Hermione watched as the redhead finally left.

After changing her short skirt in favor of black skinny jeans to avoid getting cat called, making sure that she had her wallet and her VIP pass with her, and calling an Apparition Point, she decided to go to the Dumbledore's Resting Place first to see where Albus Dumbledore was buried. She wasn't the only one there but since it was a weekend and not a week long holiday, it wasn't as crowded as usual. She immensely enjoyed the trip and the additional information that came with it. She also visited Ariana Dumbledore's grave that was surrounded by beautiful wild flowers, making it appear as though it was a meadow rather than a resting place for the dead. On the other hand, Albus Dumbledore's grave rested atop a small hill, a large statue of a rising phoenix was beside it.

Her next stop was the Hollows Museum where three of the most famous Deathly Hollows were displayed for everyone to see. There was the Resurrection Stone, the Elder Wand, and the Invisibility Cloak — which was a fake since she knew the real cloak was a family heirloom that Harry received on his eleventh birthday. Despite the rather mystical names, the Deathly Hollows were anything but magic. They were historical items that inspired tales of Death, the Many Faced God, and about the three brothers that tried to cheat him. It was a story that reminded the people that they could not escape Death no matter how much they wanted and tried to.

She was reading exploring the museum and reading about Gellert Grindelwald, the man who owned the Elder Wand before Albus Dumbledore eventually acquired it, when she heard her phone ringing. She was in the quiet part of the museum when it rang so she was nearly startled out of her wits when the noise came loudly from behind her. Pulling her phone out, she frowned when she saw Ginny's name. She accepted the call and didn't make it past her greeting when the redhead at the other end of the line started shrieking loud enough for her to pull her phone away from her ears.

_"Hermione? _HERMIONE?!_ Where the fuck are you?!"_

Hermione's eyes widened and pressed the phone back against her ear. "Woah, Ginny. Calm down. I'm at the Hollows Museum at the moment. Why? What's wrong?"

_"What the fuck?!"_ She screeched. _"Hermione! Don't you know what time it is?!"_

Hermione frowned. "Uhm, seven?"

_"It's eight fifteen!"_

Her mouth opened in realization. She hadn't even noticed that she had spent so much time in the museum. The concert— She blanched. "I'm late—"

_"Yes, you're fucking late! What are you waiting for?! Apparate already and get your butt here! Luna and I are already here at the stadium like twenty minutes ago! The concert is already starting!"_

She badly wanted to curse at that moment. It was at the edge of her tongue, actually, but in the end, she only settled for a hasty, "Okay! Okay!"

Hermione was in a frenzy. Coupled by Ginny's panicking voice and the fact that she was late made her hurry and almost stumble on her feet as she made it out of the museum. Her heart pounded when she saw that it was already dark out. She waved her arms, eventually catching the attention of one of the Apparition drivers that were waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Thankfully, it was a driver that was closest to her.

"I'll be there!" She assured the person at the other end of the line.

_"You better,"_ was the redhead's last response before ending the call.

Hermione stumbled down the last step of the stairs but managed to find her balance before she could fall on the pavement. Panting, she faced the Apparition driver waiting beside the Apparition point. He was eyeing her with a strange expression on his face, probably wondering if she was crazy and if he made a mistake by answering her call.

"I need— need to go to, ha, to the Hog's Head stadium," she told him, panting heavily. "Please. I'm— I'm already late."

The driver nodded and even opened the door for her. She smiled gratefully and went inside, still trying to catch her breath. As the driver started Apparating, she hoped that she wasn't too late and that Ginny wouldn't kill her later for not wearing her skirt.

She pursed her lips and rubbed her sweaty palms on her thighs. At least, she was wearing black skinny jeans.

**A/N: Concert is in the next chapter. I had thought that I could fit in the concert in this chapter but then it kept on going on and on and I had no choice but to cut it short.**

**Since the idea of using broomstick names as cars — Firebolt, Nimbus, etc. — was already taken by uchiha.s in The Scientist (read that by the way if you haven't already. It's awesome), I used it as shoes in this story instead. Centaurs, Acromantulas, Phoenixes(?), Unicorns, Pegasi, Thestrals, Sphinxes, and Animagi are cars. Apparition Point is just another name for taxi/cabs and Apparating is the same as driving (but only when it's a taxi/cab they're driving).**

**Guest: Frankly, I don't really care whether Hermione is black or white or grey for all you know, but I have always thought that Hermione has tan skin, at least, because of Harry's description in COS where he said that Hermione looked 'very brown' or something like that. Having brown skin doesn't necessarily mean that she's black though. I described Hermione to have golden brown skin in this story because I've always imagined her with brown skin regardless of the person who portrayed her. Don't get me wrong, I adore Emma Watson and I don't give a crap if people said she was too pretty to play someone as plain as Hermione. To be honest, Hermione could be an alien and I still would've loved her. Black or white, witch or muggle, her race or the color of her skin doesn't change her values, her morals, and her goals. If you want her to be white, fine. If you want her to be black, fine. If you want her to be white that spent too much time in the sun that resulted in her golden brown skin or whatever brown is available out there, also fine. I'm the Switzerland of this is-she-white-or-black debate.**

**Reviews are highly welcomed!**

**~ NR xx**


	6. The Heart Of A Song

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, the Song of Ice and Fire series, and the TV show Game of Thrones. I only own the lyrics to the songs, 'I'm The Last Dragon' and 'This Long Night.'**

**Chapter Six**

**_The Heart Of A Song_**

Hermione's eyes broadened when she looked out of the window of the Apparition Point and saw the crowd outside of the stadium. Hundreds of people showing their support by wearing black and red, t-shirts with the band's names and faces printed on the front, wearing three-headed dragon headbands and waving dragon heads that glowed red gathered out front, laughing with their friends and standing on their toes as they waited for their turn to hand their tickets and watch the concert. She could hear the music playing and the loud screams from the inside of the stadium. The first verse to the song _I'm The Last Dragon_ was already playing as she stepped out of the Apparition Point.

_'Ohh, oh, oh. A fire burning inside of me—'_

Heart in her throat, she slipped her VIP pass over her head and headed towards the long line with hesitant steps, her hands clenching into fists to stop it from trembling. Rhaegar's voice was muffled by the thick walls of the stadium and the defeaning screams of his band's fans but that didn't mean that it didn't nearly sound as beautiful as the first time she heard it. Listening to it up close certainly didn't do his recorded voice in videos any justice. No wonder his band got so many supporters from both Westeros and Hogwarts. With his looks and talents, coupled by the fact that his siblings — yes, she now knew that his bandmates were also his brother and sister and not his cousins — were equally as attractive as him, they had captured hearts all around the world with music notes and soulful songs.

"You, there!"

She nearly jumped out of her skin when a very tall and heavily muscled man shouted at her. She eyed the long and thick finger pointed at her and watched him approach her, her shoulders tensed. Her throat moved, her honey eyes trailing upwards — and continued to trail upwards. Goodness, this man was nearly a mountain! — to finally meet intense sea-blue eyes. He was at least three or four years older than her with dark hair and slightly tanned skin, his muscles rippling with strength that could kill a man with just one snap. He was also incredibly handsome in a rugged way with his trimmed beard and long shaggy black hair that he tied into a pony tail that didn't make him more feminine. His appearance was the perfect description of a bad boy that romance writers wrote about.

Except calling him a boy would be insulting because he was clearly all man.

He wore ripped jeans and the newest Firebolt boots. His black shirt was pulled taut across his chest, displaying his powerful body that was more fitting for a boxer. Everything about him was huge and all muscles from his hand to his biceps, down his chest and abdomen, and to the back of his legs. There was nothing soft about him; only hard and rough edges. Hermione was nervous; his appearance was similar to the men she would often catch in suspicious alleyways when she went home late at night. She went rigid as he perused her body with his electric gaze and felt something crawling up her skin when he started to smile, revealing even white teeth.

_'Waiting to unleash, waiting to be free—'_

Seeing his smile didn't ease her nerves. It just reminded her of her old schoolmate in Godric's Hollow whose name was Blaise Zabini, one of Malfoy's best friends. Blaise had a reputation of being a manwhore around their school and had a string of girlfriends — and spares — waiting for his attention. Blaise certainly wasn't shy about his very active love and sex life. He didn't just chase after everyone with a skirt; they came to him willingly and with open arms. She couldn't count the times she had caught him in a compromising position with more than one student that was always different from the last. She was probably one of the few people who was straight that was immuned by his charms and she was probably one of the few that Blaise didn't chase after.

This man in front of her smiled the same way she saw Blaise smile at every girl he encountered. It was a slow movement that brought attention to the lips — kissable, thin at the top but full at the bottom — and made their light eyes darken in a way that made you feel that you were hunted. It was a smile that made your blood hum and send a thrilling feeling down your spine. It spoke of sinful things, bad things that would only surface in your mind in the middle of the night where no one could catch you. It made you want to fight and surrender at the same time.

In short, for someone who wasn't interested in him in any way — like her — it was an uncomfortable smile to look at because it was similar to looking at something perverse and wrong. In all honesty, it made her quickly look away, choosing to gaze at his nose instead that might or might not had been broken at some point in his life.

"I know you," he said to her, his accent thick enough for her to recognize that he wasn't a local. It was a Westerosi accent that reminded her of Rhaegar's.

"I don't think you do," Hermione started only to trail off when he suddenly chuckled.

"Oh, I do," he said smoothly or as smooth as someone with a rumbling voice could achieve. "You're Hermione Granger, aren't you? The one who won The Dragon Legacy Contest?"

_'A prince with a crown of embers and thorns—'_

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "It's the VIP pass, isn't it?" She said, holding up her pass that hung around her neck and down her torso.

"No, no." He shook his head. "I saw your entry video, actually. I watched it with the band. Speaking of the band," another slow smile again, "you're late and I'm supposed to bring you in."

"How do I know that you're telling the truth to me?" Hermione asked, eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.

His own eyes narrowed. "Are you accusing me of being a liar?"

Hermione took in a deep breath. "Look, no offence to you, but you're a stranger to me. I don't want to take your word and then regret it in the end. Give me proof and I'll go with you."

Her shoulders jerked in surprise when he suddenly barked out a laugh. "Oh, what Rhaegar said is true. You really are a very suspicious little girl." He grinned when she frowned at being called a little girl. "Well, it's a good thing that Rhaegar told me a secret that only you two know."

She cocked her head to the side. "What?"

"He told me that he gave you his jacket the first night you two met, am I right?" He smirked.

Hermione blinked. It seemed that he really was telling her the truth and he was there to deliver her to the concert. She pursed her lips. "Well, it seems that you are."

"Then what are we waiting for?" He grinned and turned his back, exposing broad shoulders. "Come on. Follow me. We're supposed to bring you in through the back door."

_'A castle with a beast, no one should release—'_

Hermione nodded and followed after him. She made sure to keep at least a one meter distance between them just in case. Even though he was telling the truth, he was still a stranger to her and his built was highly intimidating and daunting. If he turned out to be a criminal, She didn't think that she stood a chance against him. She was certain that her face was the size of his palms and his strength was unparalleled. Hermione thought that he was a dark haired version of Thor. She could run away, yes, but his arms were long and he could easily snatch her up if she made one wrong step.

Hermione was a suspicious creature in nature and she didn't trust easily, more so when the Rita Skeeter debacle happened. Despite that he had proven himself as trustworthy, her mind still came up with plans of escape as they went to the back doors of the stadium where two equally large men were standing guard, wearing shirts that showed their muscled arms. Hermione suddenly felt so small as the man who was supposed to escort her to the concert halted in front of the men.

"Sir Baretheon," said one of the guards with a curt nod, pulling the door open.

Her escrot swiveled around to her with a grin that made him less intimidating and more charming. "That's me," he said, pointing a finger to himself. "Robert Baretheon, by the way, at your service."

She smiled, knowing that it was likely more of a grimace, when he winked at her. She ducked her head when he gestured for her to go through the door first. She went past him and into the hallway, heart thundering against her chest in the same beat as the drums that resonated in the walls. A breath slipped out of her lips, the music threatening to burst her eardrums. She barely registered Robert Baretheon walking past her because the fear that she felt that morning came back tenfold. It felt much more real now, standing there in the hallway, minutes away from meeting Rhaegar again. She was still waiting for the other ball to drop, for her to wake up from this strange dream, for the troublesome men in her life to burst out from the other side of the hallway and tell her that this was a prank.

But none of that happened.

There was only her, the music, and Rhaegar's voice that was leading her to the source like the trail of breadcrumbs Gretel left to create a path home for her and Hansel.

"Hey, you okay?" She distantly heard Robert asking.

It took a moment for Hermione to look at the curious expression on his face, forcing a smile to reach her lips. "Yes, I'm okay," she answered, keeping her anxiety out of her voice. "Lead the way."

Robert looked skeptical. "Are you sure? I mean, I won't judge if you are. It's okay if you're nervous about meeting Rhaegar again, you know."

"What?" She blurted out, voice high pitched, stunned about his statement. "I'm—I'm not nervous. Psh. I'm completely calm and in control."

Proceeding down the hall with Hermione in tow, Robert snorted and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. That's so convincing." He wasn't hiding the sarcasm out of his voice and he completely missed the glare Hermione shot at his back. "Really. If you're nervous, there's no need to hide it. Rhaegar was nervous too."

Her eyebrows shot up in astonishment. "He... He is?" She asked hesitantly.

"Oh, yeah." He looked at her over his shoulder. A grin took over the lower half of his face. "You really got him worried when you didn't show up on time. Now that you're here, he can rest easy now. I just texted the manager of the band and told them you arrived. You'll meet him later. He's a right prick."

Hermione blinked. "Oh," she said, unable to say anything more.

Robert didn't seem to notice, continuing to ramble absently. "Yeah. That's Jon alright, the manager. He only really likes Rhaegar so if he acts like a total arsehole to you, don't take it personal. Don't worry though, some of us likes you. Dany, especially." Shooting her in what he thought was a sly smirk and giving her body an appraising look. "Also, count me in the list of people who likes you."

Hermione's eyes widened at the suggestive tone of his voice. She immediately snapped her eyes ahead. "Right," she said, tittering slightly.

Hermione heard him chuckling and she hoped that her blush wasn't noticeable in the lights. They turned around the corner, the music beating louder as they came upon another set of doors where a man with crimson red hair and ice blue eyes stood in front of it. His visage was one of impatience, his foot tapping on the floor and his eyes darting constantly on his wristwatch. The red haired man was tall with a svelte form, more like Rhaegar's built than Robert's. He was dressed more formally than the man she was with; in a white polo shirt, black slacks, and in expensive leather shoes. Like Robert, he was ruggedly handsome but he didn't appear to be as rakish as him. In fact, he had an untouchable air around him with his ice blue eyes and lips pressed into a firm straight line. He seemed like a no-nonsense kind of person and would probably kill someone instead of laughing with their jokes.

Hermione guessed that the man waiting for them was Jon, the manager, based by the way he looked at Robert in disdain as soon as he saw them.

"Finally," he spoke, relaxing his stance and ceasing his foot from another impatient tap on the floor. He glanced at her, eyebrows knitted. "Are you Hermione Granger?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes. Yes, I am. You must be the manager?"

"Jon Connington," he said brusquely, not even offering his hand. "You're late. You were supposed to be doing an opening song with Rhaegar."

Hermione was certain that her eyes had bulged out of her sockets. "What?"

Jon waved his hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter now. Since the song is coming to a close, you're up next. I already told Rhaegar to introduce you then you two will play a song." He put a hand on her back and prodded her towards the close doors. "Go now. The song is over soon. There's no time. Good luck, Miss Granger."

"Wait, wait!" Hermione said frantically, even as the doors swung open.

She didn't know what surprised her the most: the screams that rang in her ears, or the drum beats that followed the tune of her heartbeat. She was struck speechless and her feet froze on the spot. The backstage wasn't as chaotic as the front stage but it was still full of activity as a crew of people tried their hardest to make certain that the concert would be a success. She could feel the two men standing behind her like two imposing pillars. Her hands started trembling as her eyes darted to the lights, the people walking left to right, the large speakers, the thousands of people, and at the three people standing on the stage, playing their instruments.

"Go on to the stage," Jon commanded behind her, irritation coating his voice when she didn't move.

"I think you broke her." Robert's voice conveyed his amusement. He waved his hand in front of her face. "Hello? Hi? Anybody there?"

"I..." Hermione rapidly blinked her eyes, pushing Robert's hand away as she shook her head. "I can't do this."

"Good evening, Dumbledore's Grounds!"

Hermione's eyes snapped to the direction of the familiar voice. The screams echoed throughout the whole stadium but it was muffled as though a bubble surrounded her and prevented her from hearing most of the noise. Her eyes remained on the blond man smiling at his fans, hands on his guitar, and looking perfectly at ease with thousands of eyes upon him. His hair glowed white and Hermione was certain if someone were to say that he was an angel, she would've believed them. She didn't know what to expect but it certainly wasn't this. He looked confident and powerful as well as welcoming and charming. Rhaegar appeared as though he owned the stage and the people there watching him was his royal subjects

Robert must've lied to her because he didn't seem nervous at all.

"Before I begin a new song," he continued, grabbing the microphone with both hands, "I'm just going to extend our gratitude to those who entered in The Dragon Legacy Contest. TDL wouldn't be here today without your support" — a series of drumbeats followed and Rhaegar's chuckle vibrated through the air — "and Dany, Viserys, and I are forever grateful for that. Thank you so much everyone! However, as sad as I am to say this, we can only choose one winner."

"That's you," Jon hissed into her ear, snapping her out of daze.

Hermione didn't resist when she was grabbed by both shoulders and was pushed forward towards the stage. She couldn't hear her own heartbeats but she could feel how fast and hard it pumped inside her ribcage. She smiled at the people who she came across with as Robert and Jon pushed her towards the front stage and they smiled back and occasionally nodded at her direction. However, as soon as she saw the front stage, her eyes grew wide and she cringed as she dug the heels of her shoes on the floor.

She didn't know that she had to sing in front of a thousand of people! What was she thinking when she agreed into this?!

"—Please welcome Hermione Granger, the winner of the first The Dragon Legacy Contest!"

She stumbled into the stage and the spotlight was upon her as the crowd grew wild and a series of drumbeats followed. She blinked her eyes and clasped her shaking hands behind her back, trying her best not to make her smile appear awkward. She looked back and saw Jon and Robert making shooing gestures as though she was a dog. She scowled at them before turning her gaze straight ahead, and then at Rhaegar whose expression was patient and yet expectant. His half smile was playful and amused, his hand was stretched out for her to take. There was already a microphone stand a good three feet away from him. Slowly, with shaking knees, she headed towards him and his smile grew when she accepted his hand.

"Ladies and gentleman, Hermione Granger!" Rhaegar announced into his microphone once she stood before the crowd. His fingers dragged softly down on her palm before he dropped her hand. "She's going to sing with me tonight here on stage. The both of us will be coming up with lyrics all on our own. Since I'm the one who knows the chords, I'm going to take the lead from verse one to the chorus before she does and together, we'll make a song just for you. Now, are you ready?!"

Hermione tried not to cringe when the screams made her ears ring. She desperately sought Ginny and Luna amidst the crowd but she couldn't find them even though their tickets granted them two spots in the front row. She would just have to find them once the concert was over. When Rhaegad played the guitar, Hermione grabbed the microphone, gulping the lump in her throat as she waited for Rhaegar to sing.

_"Counting the snowflakes falling from the sky_

_Thinking to myself that long night."_

Hermione closed her eyes and prayed that she wouldn't make a fool out of herself.

_"And all the pain that I went through_

_It's funny that it stopped when I saw you."_

She was going to kill Ginny once this was over. This was all her fault!

_"And aaah~ I'm_

_I'm a prince of broken dreams_

_And aaah~ I'm_

_Brave enough to stitch the seams."_

Hermione hoped she wasn't going to throw up once it was her turn. She also hoped that she wouldn't faint. She didn't want to watch a video of herself fainting in front of thousands of people!

_"Because in this long night_

_I couldn't help but find the light_

_In a form of an angel_

_With large honey eyes."_

She was going to—

Her eyes snapped towards Rhaegar, shock passing through her as his lyrics registered in her mind. Was he—?

_"In this long night_

_I knew I saw something bright_

_From a beautiful woman_

_Whose smile warmed this night."_

Their eyes met across the stage and his eyes flashed — and Hermione knew.

Her heart stuttered as her suspicions were confirmed.

Rhaegar was singing a song about them — about the night they first met.

Anxiety suddenly shoved to the back of her mind, she opened her mouth and began to sing.

_"Counting the minutes passing by_

_I'm standing outside in this cold night."_

Her voice wavered at first but like a soldier going to war, she trudged forward and made it through the frontline.

_"Waiting for something that I thought I knew_

_Until you gave me warmth and offered something true."_

She licked her lips and closed her eyes.

_"Sing with your heart, Hermione,"_ her father used to say to her back when he was still alive. He was the one who first taught her how to sing._ "A song is what your heart wants to say that your mind couldn't. So, don't be afraid to sing. Don't be afraid of your own heart. You're beautiful, Hermione, and whatever song you'll sing will be equally as beautiful."_

_"And aaah~ I'm_

_I'm nothing but a simple girl_

_But aaah~ I'm_

_I'm not afraid to face the world."_

She opened her eyes and met lilac eyes. Slowly, she began to smile.

_"Because in this long night_

_I couldn't help but find the light_

_In a beautiful stranger_

_With lovely lilac eyes."_

His lips tugged upwards and a beatific smile reached his eyes.

_"In this long night_

_I knew I saw something bright_

_From a charming man_

_Whose heart touched mine."_

And together, they sang, their voice blending together in perfect harmony and synchronisation.

_"Unexpected," _Rhaegar sang, _"unprecedented. This night I won't forget."_

_"Unplanned,"_ and she sang back, _"and uncharted. I pray this night won't end."_

Somehow along the way, their hearts, their souls, began speaking to each other.

_"And aaah~ I_

_I hope we have more time."_

She didn't notice the movement that had brought him closer to her.

_"And aaah~ I_

_I refuse to say goodbye."_

When she turned, she nearly paused when she saw him standing beside her and using her own microphone to sing. To cover her mistake, she flashed an embarrassed grin at him.

_"Because in this long night,"_ Rhaegar sang sweetly, _"I couldn't help but find the light—"_

_"From a charming man whose heart touched mine,"_ she cut him off, matching the high pitch of his voice. _"In this long night, I knew I saw something bright—"_

_"From a beautiful woman_

_Whose smile warmed this night."_

His fingers strummed his guitar one last time before, finally, like all good things, the song ended.

The screams of the band's fans seemed distant as Hermione stared at him, enthralled by the beautiful man before her. Rhaegar stared back, scrutinizing her face, remembering the shape of her eyes, nose, and lips. A smile couldn't be seen on their faces as they panted, breathless by the song and the lyrics they brought up from their hearts that resonated in their souls. Despite the thousands of people with them and watching them that night, Hermione felt as though they had a world of their own where others couldn't reach them. Her heart jumped up to her throat and she gulped.

"Hi." Her voice was quiet, barely more than a sound that went past her lips. She cleared her theoat and tried again, this time was louder.

Before her, Rhaegar stood tall as he laughed breathlessly. "Hello," he greeted in a mirthful voice. "It's nice to see you again, Hermione."

She grinned, exhilarated that he remembered her just as she did as well. "It's nice to see you too, Rhaegar."

It felt like the most perfect way to end a song.


End file.
